#//added complication of her magic too

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[fluffypotatey]

*smashes in like the Kool-Aid man*

PENDRAGON SIBLINGS YOU SAY????

I have. So many Feels. About Themst™

The complexity?? The layers?? The angst?? Hello??????

Their relationship is just So Much, because you are right, it's all tangled up in miscommunication and missed opportunities, and so many problems that can be sourced back to Uther "War Crimes" Pendragon, who wouldn't know a healthy relationship if it bit him on the ass.

If Merlin and Arthur are two sides of the same coin, then Arthur and Morgana are edges of the same blade.

Because it's the lonely childhoods, the shared grief, the friendship, the vulnerability, the fondness, the teasing, the envy, the jealousy, the almost romance, the protectiveness, the betrayal, the loss, the hurt, the refusal to let go and the desperate hanging on, and the love, the love, the love.

Indifference is the true opposite of love.

Hate is love that's gone rotten.

“If Merlin and Arthur are two sides of the same coin, then Arthur and Morgana are edges of the same blade.” oh fuck….

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK

WAIT HOLD ON WAIT LEMME PIGGYBACK ON THAT BESTIE @0hheytherebigbadwolf (tagging you bc it will be a couple days after you sent this ask)

(Also, for anyone wanting background context on what me and bestie are bouncing off on: voilà)

OK OK SO

we are all familiar with King Uther being the greatest (worst) dad of all time, correct? places such high expectations on his “only son and heir” whilst never officially acknowledging Morgana as his daughter until the very end?

F+ father of the year :)

he is not above sending his children into the dungeon if they disobey him as seen here:

(Jfc he even put Morgana in chains like wtf)

also, he is not above using emotional guilt towards them when he deems it necessary (aka one of the only times he actually acknowledges them as his children)

UTHER (1x02 Valiant) I trust you will make me proud.

UTHER (1x08 The Beginning of the End) I’ve treated you like a daughter. Is this how you repay me?

UTHER (1x12 To Kill the King) You are the daughter I never had.

UTHER (2x08 Sins of the Father) You would believe a sorcerer’s lies over the word of your father?

not to mention that when Arthur or Morgana try to reason with him or argue with him since they are the only ones with the status to do so, he pulls rank

UTHER (1x12 To Kill the King) May I remind you that you are speaking to your King [...] Take care, child, or I’ll have you restrained.

UTHER (2x08 Sins of the Father) I am your king and your father. You will show me some respect!

UTHER (2x06 Beauty and the Beast) We live in dangerous times, I cannot allow you to undermine my authority.

UTHER (3x10 Queen of Hearts) You have caused this to happen, Arthur. My decision is final.

ngl i could include more but i have already spent hours searching for shit (YOUTUBE WILL DIE BY MY HAND THAT STINGY BITC—) but y’all get what i mean: Uther is an abusive fucker and it has messed up the conditions of Arthur and Morgana

now, about the double edged blade…..

as previously established, Uther is a fucking dick and wants his children to obey him but also adore him. with this behavior, the Pendragon siblings react in two ways: with anger & contempt or submission and remorse

way #1

i’m gonna start with Morgana because anger is the easiest to pick out throughout the show. in the first episode of the first season, our introduction to Morgana’s character is her lecturing Uther about executing the man Merlin witnessed upon entering Camelot (such a warm welcome for Emrys, mh?)

MORGANA I just don't think chopping someone's head off is cause for a celebration. That poor mother. UTHER It was simple justice for what he'd done. MORGANA To whom? He practiced some magic, he didn't hurt anyone. UTHER You were not around twenty years ago, you have no idea what it was like. MORGANA How long are you going to keep punishing people for what happened then?

early on, it is easy to pick up on Morgana’s resentment and anger at Uther, who she believes is blinded by his fear of magic and his need for control (which she isn’t wrong about). also, we find that she isn’t one to back off when poking the bear (Uther). she does it constantly in seasons 1 & 2

MORGANA (1x03 Mark of Nimueh) Why would she kneel on a cold stone floor morning after morning when she could make these things happen with a snap of her fingers? Like an idle king!

MORGANA (1x08 The Beginning of the End) How can this child be your enemy? He's just a boy. UTHER He is a Druid. MORGANA Is that such a crime?…What have these people done to you? Why are you so full of hate?

UTHER (2x04 Lancelot and Guinevere) How many men would you have me sacrifice to save a servant? MORGANA  As many as it takes!

to be honest, i wouldn’t be surprised if screaming, arguing and berating Uther about his morals and ethics is her way of proving that she is not weak or submissive to his actions. i mean, Morgana grew up in a household the complete opposite from her time in Camelot. Gorlois, the man whom Morgana considers to be her father and one and only family member, was said to be “just” and “kind” and someone that Uther even considered a good friend who openly kept him in check. Morgana, until the age of ten, understood parental love and empathy unlike Arthur, who spent his whole life without any good or healthy substance of it.

the culture of Camelot and Uther’s wrath is not something Morgana was ever able to fully acclimate to as Uther himself pointed out in 1x12. She “was at odds with [him] since the beginning” and could never picture herself as a Pendragon (point further proven in 4x05: she looked revolted when Queen Annis compared her to Uther) because she didn’t share in their idea of magic = evil and a king = absolute control.

ironic in terms of future plot events, isn’t it :’)

way #2

compare that to Arthur: man’s respressed af. keeps all his emotions under lock and key if they are anything but haughty and serious. y’all, Arthur even says it himself how he “[can't] disagree with Father [Uther] in public.” whenever Arthur finds himself at odds with Uther, he holds his tongue and waits until he can disobey secretly (2x05 when he leaves to rescue Gwen, 1x08 when he helps Morgana sneak out Mordred in the dark of the night, 2x08 when he sneaks out to meet Morgause for more info about his mom, etc). it is only the rare moments when Arthur feels impassioned enough to speak up without fearing any retribution does Arthur talk back at him (so satisfying 👌)

ARTHUR (1x03 Mark of Nimueh) [Morgana’s] right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen.

ARTHUR (2x08 Sins of the Father) This is what fuels your hatred for those who practice magic. Rather than blame yourself for what you did, you blame them….You hunted her kind like animals! How many hundreds have you condemned to death to ease your guilt?!….You speak of honour and nobility! You're nothing but a hypocrite and a liar!

ARTHUR (3x10 Queen of Hearts) You can't forbid my feelings any more than I can. I won't deny them any longer, I love her. I love Guinevere.

we can even compare how the two react to Uther’s violence towards them

(ahahahahahaaaaa what a wonderful dad)

on the left, you see Arthur’s face right when Uther crushes the morteus flower needed to heal Merlin (his manservant/friend/????) and on the right, is Morgana after Uther discovers she was harboring a Druid child in her chambers and she refuses to listen to his reason.

notice how both faces are remarkably similar 👀

however, Arthur’s look of shock and dismay come from his hope that Uther would do the right thing. that he would help save Merlin’s life from dying of poison. that he wouldn’t use this as a method to teach Arthur “what it means to disobey and cross the king.” he truly did hope, just like he always does with the people he holds close. Arthur cannot help but hope and trust that those close to him will not betray him and yet so many do. hence the remorse

looking at Morgana, her shock comes from the fact that this might be the first time Uther reacted to her words and actions in a physical manner. my suspicion is that most of the time, all Morgana previously got was Uther reprimanding her and yelling at her to stop questioning his methods (bc, let’s be real, she was the favorite child.) never has he lifted a finder on her like Arthur and i have proof (cue transcript!)

AND! and, Arthur is constantly warning Morgana about not angering Uther any further because of the consequences she might face (consequences this boy is very familiar with) when Uther deems it necessary to “teach” his children obedience.

UTHER (1x04 The Poisoned Chalice) You have to learn there's a right and a wrong way of doing things. I'll see you're let out in a week. Then you can find yourself another servant.

UTHER (3x10 Queen of Hearts) You have caused this to happen, Arthur. My decision is final [...] This is for your own good. - UTHER She will die. The enchantment will be broken. You'll see I was right.

UTHER (2x08 Sins of the Father) I am protecting you from your own foolishness!

so educational 🥰 but see, because Uther presents his punishments as lessons, Arthur himself views them as just a fucked up but meaningful way of his father’s concern because “yeah, I am the first born son and only heir to the throne. of course I need to learn not to do silly things like disobey, talk back to him, be my own person.” <- I’m paraphrasing here

Arthur does and has never seen a way out of the life thrust upon him by Uther (see 3x06). succeeding Uther as king, marrying a noblewoman of high standing for heirs and alliance strength was always expected of him. Arthur never saw a way out of this. even when he and Gwen were in their secret relationship phase, Arthur had to remind himself that this would never last. he loved her and knew she loved him, but there was always that reminder (that sounded a lot like Uther) in the back of his head telling him that it would never last so long as he was prince. he had a duty (constructed by Uther) to serve Camelot and going against his father would mean (in his eyes) that he is going against Camelot (as Uther always presented it to be).

so unlike Morgana, he did not kick and scream but stood firm because that was what he believed was stronger. if he stayed in his lane and did his part, then he would be a good king, maybe even a better one than his father, for Camelot. however, the show proves that differentiating himself from Uther actually made him the better king and more respected, but this is not the meta for that. I am getting side tracked.

OK: so we’ve established parental issues between the two siblings. now onto their very complex, complicated yet beloved dynamic

sO, as i mentioned in this post (because i am lazy and too tired to copy/paste the evidence from there), these siblings do care for one another. they just go about it in the most hilarious and repressed and in-denial way (hilarious to me 😤)

when we meet them, it’s established that these two have known each other for some time. enough for them to bicker and have banter, you know, as you do with a Pendragon. also, should add, neither character are ever aware they are blood-related until s3 (because of some weak-ass bitch named Uther), so you have that very, uh, interesting subplot in s1 that everybody forgets about until you rewatch it. (honestly, I have so many questions. number 1: why???? number 2: it’s only in s1—was it scrapped??? is it like it never existed???? what was its purpose to the plot??? bbc explain yourself—)

however, despite how much it is shown that they do care for one another, they’re relationship in s1 is still undefined and vague as if they also don’t know how to accurately define what the other means to them. it’s very similar to the whole “i really love this person so much but is what i’m feeling platonic, familial, or romantic?” because….you know, guy and girl besties who are close are typically expected to grow romantic feelings for each other, so tbh i would not be surprised if both mistook their love as romantically inclined in the beginning bc, reminder, neither of them were aware they were siblings until much later.

[and this is ALL i am saying on this subplot. i do not want to cause any negative discourse, so if anyone has a few choice words about it, either keep it to yourself or feel free to talk about it with people you know. personally? not a fan of the ship and never will be, but i am not here to post about that.]

anyway, have some featured receipts showing Arthur and Morgana slipping up and showing how much they care for each other.

SEE!!!! LOOK AT HOW THE CARE!!!! SEE HOW THEY WORRY FOR THE OTHER AND WISH TO PROTECT THEM FROM HARM!!! (and see how even when they’re on opposite sides there is still that same love. just more warped and corrupted T^T)

^worried/protective Morgana

^Arthur’s face after Merlin informs him that there’s an intruder heading to Morgana’s chambers

Morgana is very aware of Arthur’s trusting nature. Arthur is very aware of Morgana’s empathy and righteous nature. they understand each other so well which is why Morgana knew just how to harm Arthur in later seasons and why Morgana’s betrayal hit Arthur so hard. it’s also why he never stopped trying to reach out to her in s4 & s5. as @merlinemrys said in this lovely post, the show’s driving force is love. love of all kinds. whatever conflict it is, love is there at the center of it all and, in Arthur and Morgana’s case, it does not save them (just like how love does not save Merlin or Arthur from what lies ahead, as the op of the post pointed out).

that is what makes their relationship/love be like a double edged sword!! that is why they are edges of the same blade!!! they protect and fight for what they believe in and for the people they love, but the same blades cut deep and twist their wounds into a lasting scar.

it is because of Arthur’s love for Morgana that he cannot help but hope and mourn the woman he once knew. it is because of Morgana’s love for Arthur that her feelings of hatred are so strong and ugly.

like honestly,

look at them T^T compared to before

their relationship is so tragic T^T because we knew them before it all went wrong. we knew they cared and understood each other. we knew that for some time, they only had each other to rely on for a friend, a crutch, a breather for when the royal life was too much. both of them were fighters and strive to honor their values. both of them had once leaned on the other for support, had wanted nothing but happiness for each other.

fuck, they didn’t even get the chance to really be siblings because they found out too late, and by then Morgana was on a war path and Arthur only found out at the last minute.

like fuck, man

two sides of the same blade: forged with love, yet used for blood

screencaps brought to you by me, @sourdough-morbread, and farfarawaysite

[julietsf1]

The Secret Admirer - Franco Colapinto x Driver!Reader

summary: Y/N thought the biggest challenge this season would be her dynamic with her cold teammate, but mysterious notes and gifts start to complicate things. Who’s behind it, and what happens when she finds out?

content: driver!reader; slight lestappen in-between the lines if you're down for it

AN - HELLO?? when did I reach 100 followers?? that's crazy fr thank you guys so much <3 getting myself a some lilies tomorrow to celebrate heehee :)

inspired after reading an amazing secret admirer SMAU by @hugleclerc!!

---------------------------------------------------

The Williams garage was alive with the buzz of mechanics and engineers, adjusting last-minute setups on the cars before qualifying. I leaned against the wall, watching the team work their magic. The air was tense, but everyone seemed focused, ready for the battle that awaited on track.

Everyone except Franco Colapinto.

I glanced across the garage, where Franco stood laughing with one of the engineers. His gorgeous green eyes sparkled as he made some clever comment, drawing a laugh from the guy. Of course, everyone adored Franco—charming, effortlessly cool, always with a smile that could melt ice.

Just not when it came to me.

I took a deep breath, feeling the usual pang of frustration bubble up. It wasn’t that I needed to be best friends with my teammate, but we were supposed to be a team. Teammates were supposed to at least talk to each other, right? But no—Franco acted like I was a ghost. A ghost in a fireproof suit.

Whatever, I told myself. It wasn’t like I cared... much.

But maybe today would be different. Maybe today, I’d crack the Colapinto code.

“Hey, Franco,” I called out as I approached him, keeping my voice light, almost hopeful. “Ready for qualifying?”

He turned toward me, his eyes flickering me up and down for the briefest moment. “Hey,” he said, offering me the most forced smile I’d ever seen. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at how bad this was going already. “I, uh... need to check the data,” he quickly added, already turning away before I could even blink.

Right. Data. The lamest excuse. I watched as he made a beeline for the monitors, leaving me standing there like an idiot talking to thin air. Again.

I sighed, folding my arms. “Sure, no problem.” It felt ridiculous—like I was chasing after something that clearly didn’t matter to him. 

I didn’t want to admit how much it actually bugged me. Not having a good bond with Franco wasn’t just a professional issue—it felt personal. I got on with everyone else in the paddock. Oscar? Hilarious. Charles? Always up for a nice talk. Lando? Honestly too crazy for his own good. But Franco? He was a mystery wrapped in a cold, distant puzzle.

I let out another sigh, shaking my head. Turning to head back to my car again.

The truth was, it bothered me more than I liked to admit. I wanted to have that easy camaraderie I had with the others, but Franco wasn’t interested. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe it was just the rivalry for the number 1 seat at Williams, and I was overthinking things.

But still, every time I saw him chat with the team, his eyes lighting up as he joked around, it stung. Why couldn’t he be like that with me?

The countdown to qualifying flashed on the screens around the garage, snapping me back to reality. Focus. I had a job to do. I wasn’t going to let Franco’s attitude get in the way of that. I could beat him on the track. That’s what mattered.

..

Back in my driver’s room, the hum of the paddock faded as I shut the door behind me. The familiar quiet enveloped me, offering a brief moment of peace. I tugged at the zipper of my race suit, peeling it halfway down to let out the heat. Qualifying had gone well enough, p10, but my mind was elsewhere, drifting away from lap times and tire choices.

I moved around the small space, packing my gloves and helmet, going through the motions of tidying up. There was something soothing about the routine—folding, zipping, stashing gear away in its proper place. It gave my hands something to do while my thoughts wandered.

As I reached for my bag, my fingers brushed against something unexpected—a small, folded piece of paper peeking out from the side pocket. I paused, pulling it free and unfolding it slowly. The handwriting was neat, familiar. My heart gave a small flutter, as it always did when I found one of these.

"You looked amazing again today. Seeing you shine is the highlight of my raceweekends."

A smile tugged at my lips, soft but undeniable. These notes had been showing up for weeks now, tucked into my things when I least expected it. Always sweet, always supportive, and just romantic enough to make me wonder who the mysterious admirer could be.

I leaned back against the bench, holding the note in my hand. Whoever was behind this... they were good. Thoughtful, even. They knew how to say just enough to lift my spirits without crossing that line into cringe territory.

But who could it be? I’d racked my brain plenty of times. Maybe one of the engineers? They were always around, and some of them had a quiet, observant vibe. Or could it be the chef who made those amazing post-race meals? He was always so friendly, always knew exactly how to make my day a little better.

I folded the note carefully and slid it into my pocket, shaking my head with a soft laugh. Whoever it was, they were doing a great job of keeping it a secret. It was frustrating, sure, but at the same time... there was something kind of magical about the mystery. And it felt good, knowing someone was watching, rooting for me in their own quiet way. 

With a small smile, I headed toward the door, stepping into the outside world again, basically hitting me in the face with its upbeat energy. Whatever challenges lay ahead, at least I had one thing to look forward to—someone out there cared. And that was more than enough to brighten my day.

..

At the hotel I went straight to the restaurant which was filled with the typical post-qualifying buzz—drivers catching up, teams unwinding with food and drinks, and engineers talking shop over their meals. I slipped into the booth beside Oscar, who was already halfway through his plate, while Charles raised his glass in greeting.

“Tough session?” Oscar asked, his mouth half full, which would sure as hell earn him a scolding from Nicole Piastri if she saw him like this.

I shrugged, picking up the menu. “Could’ve been worse. Franco had his usual charm on, though.” I tried to keep it light, but there was no hiding the disappointment creeping into my voice.

Charles raised an eyebrow, setting his glass down with a smirk. “And by charm, you mean...”

“He barely acknowledged me.” I sighed, flipping the menu open. “I tried to wish him luck, you know, like a teammate would? He gave me the most forced smile, muttered something about ‘checking the data,’ and bolted.”

Oscar leaned back in his seat, giving me a knowing look. “Classic Franco move. Avoidance with a dash of politeness.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” I muttered, more amused than frustrated at this point.

Charles chuckled. “Well, it’s not like he hates you. Maybe he’s just... I don’t know, bad at the whole teammate thing.”

“Maybe,” I said, not really convinced. “It’s just... disappointing. Everyone else on the grid is easy to get along with, but with Franco, it’s like I don’t exist. I get that we’re both competitive for that number one seat, but it doesn’t mean we have to be strangers.”

Oscar gave me a small, sympathetic smile, then his face lit up with a mischievous glint. “At least you’ve got someone making up for it with those cute little love notes.”

My cheeks flushed a bit as I fumbled with the menu. I wasn’t expecting that to come up so quickly. “I wouldn’t call them love notes.”

Charles leaned in, clearly intrigued. “Oh, do tell.”

I sighed, setting the menu down. “It’s nothing major. Just... someone’s been leaving notes for me. Encouraging ones. They’re always really sweet and thoughtful.”

Charles and Oscar exchanged a glance, then burst out laughing.

“Our girl’s got a secret admirer!” Oscar stated, grinning ear to ear.

Charles joined in. “And you didn’t think to tell me? Come on, Y/N, we’re supposed to be your investigative team here.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling despite their teasing. “It’s not like that. I mean, I don’t even know who it is. The notes just show up in my stuff—my locker, my bag, even my hotel room once.”

Charles was practically bouncing in his seat. “This is amazing. You’ve got a secret admirer in the paddock, and you’re keeping it from us? That’s just cruel.”

Oscar tilted his head, considering. “Maybe it’s one of the journalists? They’re always hanging around the paddock.”

I frowned, thinking it over. “A journalist? I don’t know... It seems kind of personal. Like, whoever’s leaving them knows what’s going on in my head.”

Charles grinned, clearly loving the mystery. “Maybe it’s that tire guy. You know, the one who’s always lurking around with that awkward smile.”

I laughed. “Sure, because nothing says romance like delivering tires.”

“Hey, you never know,” Charles teased. “The guy might have a thing for drivers who know how to handle a good set of Pirellis.”

Oscar snorted. “Well, whoever it is, they’re clearly invested in you. And the fact that they’re staying anonymous? Bold move.”

I shook my head, grinning despite myself. “It’s not like that. I mean, I don’t think it is. The notes are more... supportive than romantic.”

Charles smirked. “Supportive, romantic... it’s the same thing when you’re the one receiving them.”

I leaned back, letting out a breath. “Maybe. It’s just weird not knowing. Whoever it is must be around a lot to be able to slip the notes into my stuff without me noticing.”

Oscar shrugged. “Could be anyone. Engineer, journalist, tire guy... heck, it could be someone from another team for all we know.”

Charles gave me a nudge. “Come on, let’s not overthink this. Whoever it is, they’re obviously paying attention to you in ways we’re not. Just... enjoy it. You deserve it.”

..

Back in my hotel room, I tossed my bag onto the bed and collapsed into the armchair. Even after the dinner with Oscar and Charles, the post-quali hectivity still lingered in my head, and I was ready to unwind. As I sat up, something caught my eye on the desk—there, sitting perfectly in the middle, was a bouquet of lilies, their soft pink petals delicate and crisp against the dark wood. Nestled among the flowers was a small teddy bear, its plush almost glowing in the dim room light.

I blinked, taking a step closer. Another note.

With a grin creeping onto my face, I picked up the folded paper, carefully sliding it out from between the stems. My heart fluttered a little as I unfolded it, the familiar neat handwriting greeting me once again.

"Flowers for the prettiest girl in the pitlane, you are doing amazing this weekend."

The warmth that spread through me was undeniable. Whoever this was, they had a knack for making me feel special without going overboard. I set the note down on the desk, reaching for the teddy bear. It was soft, comforting in a way that made me smile.

Without thinking, I scooped up the flowers and the teddy and practically ran out of the room, determined to show Oscar and Charles the latest installment of this ongoing mystery. I knew they’d have a field day with it.

When I made it down to the lobby, I spotted them easily—Oscar and Charles were draped over the couches, their laughter carrying across the room.

“Oh no,” Oscar said as soon as he saw me, eyes locking onto the bouquet. “Not more flowers.”

Charles leaned forward, grinning. “What is it this time? Roses? A life-sized teddy bear?”

I sat down next to them, holding up the lilies and teddy with a mock dramatic flourish. “Lilies and a teddy bear,” I announced. “And another note. This person is definitely stepping up their game.”

Before I could say more, Max appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the chair next to Charles. He raised an eyebrow at the sight. “Wait, wait, wait—what did I miss?”

Oscar leaned over, grinning like crazy. “Oh, just Y/N’s latest delivery from her secret admirer.”

Max’s eyes widened in mock shock. “Secret admirer? How come I’m only finding out about this now? Charles, you should’ve told me!”

Charles waved him off. “You’ve been too busy. Someone’s been leaving notes and gifts for Y/N. This is the latest one—lilies and a teddy bear. The whole deal.”

Without missing a beat, Max straightened up dramatically and grabbed Charles’s hand, mimicking a lovestruck expression, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh, darling Charles, I’ve waited so long to tell you how much I adore you. Letme sweep you off your feet with lilies and teddy bears,” he said in a ridiculous voice, earning a round of laughter from the guys.

Charles, unable to keep a straight face, clutched at his chest. “Oh, Max, I had no idea! How could I have been so blind?” He pretended to swoon, leaning into Max as Oscar snorted with laughter.

The whole thing was so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but burst out laughing, holding onto the teddy bear as Charles dramatically fell into Max’s arms. Oscar nearly spilled his drink, laughing so hard he was shaking.

“You guys are so annoying,” I said, shaking my head.

Oscar wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “And yet, you still hang out with us.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, sitting down beside Oscar. “You can all make fun of me later. But seriously, I have no idea who’s behind this.”

Max leaned over, winking at me. “Whoever it is, I’d say they’re pretty serious about this. You should probably start writing your thank-you speech for when they finally reveal themselves.”

Oscar tilted his head thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s someone who sees you all the time but doesn’t want to be too obvious about it. A paddock regular.”

Charles nodded. “Like that tire guy. Maybe he’s finally making his move.”

Lando, who joined the group mid max’s performance and had been quietly observing so far, crossed his arms, his grin widening. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea who it is.”

I raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh, really?”

Lando shrugged casually, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I mean, if you pay attention, it’s not that hard to figure out. It’s always someone who notices the little things, like when you have a really good session or when you’re extra happy about something.”

Oscar tilted his head. “Wait... are you saying you know who it is?”

Lando’s smirk widened just a fraction. “I guess I’m fairly certain, yeah. But where’s the fun in telling you now? I’ll let you all figure it out.”

Max leaned back, giving Lando a look. “Come on, mate. You can’t just drop that and leave us hanging.”

Lando held up his hands, still grinning. “I’m just saying—sometimes the answer’s right in front of you. You’ve just gotta look a little closer.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, the wheels in my head turning, but before I could press him any further, George strolled up, adjusting his jacket with his usual air of elegance. He took one look at the flowers and teddy bear, and his face lit up with intrigue.

“Good evening, Gentlemen, Gentlewoman,” George said, eyes carefully inspecting the gifts on the table, “what’s this whole ordeal about?”

Oscar leaned forward, clearly enjoying himself. “Y/N’s got a secret admirer. Notes, flowers, gifts... the whole thing.”

George straightened up, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “A secret admirer, you say? Well, this sounds like a job for me.”

Max snickered. “You’re going to solve this mystery, Sherlock?”

George gave him a serious nod. “Absolutely. It’s a matter of pride now. Y/N, you leave this in my capable hands.”

I laughed. “What’s your plan, George?”

He adjusted his collar with a flourish. “I’ll start by investigating everyone in the paddock. No stone shall be left unturned, no individual overlooked.”

Charles chuckled. “I’d pay good money to see you interrogating the tire guy.”

George gave him a lofty wave. “The tire guy? Please, I’ll be far more thorough than that. I’ll speak to marshalls, cleaning staff, team principals—everyone. By the end of this, I’ll have your answer.”

Oscar grinned. “I’m sure they’ll all appreciate your thoroughness.”

“Fear not,” George continued, completely serious, “I will get to the bottom of this. You can count on me.”

We all burst out laughing as George made his dramatic exit, heading off toward the elevators with an air of determination.

Max shook his head, still chuckling. “He’s going to be a nightmare in the paddock tomorrow.”

Oscar leaned back, crossing his arms. “No kidding. He’ll have everyone hiding from him by lunchtime.”

Lando, still lounging comfortably, gave me a quick glance. “Well, while Sherlock’s off gathering clues, we can all sit back and enjoy the show.”

I smiled, hugging the teddy bear close. “Yeah, this whole thing is getting out of hand.”

But even as I said it, I glanced down at the note again, my fingers brushing over the neat handwriting. There was something about this whole thing—something I felt I was overlooking.

..

Race day had finally arrived, and the paddock was alive with excitement. The drivers’ parade was one of those moments where the race hadn’t quite hit yet, and the energy was more about the fans than the looming competition. I stood with the other drivers, the sun bright overhead, as we waited to climb into the two open-top trucks that would take us around the circuit.

The atmosphere was lively, the cheers of the crowd echoing through the streets. For a brief moment, it was just about the spectacle—no stress, no pressure. Just waves and smiles.

“Y/N!” George’s voice cut through the noise, and I turned to see him weaving through the group with a grin. “I’ve got updates.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Updates on what?”

George leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “The investigation. I’ve been doing some digging.”

I stifled a laugh, shaking my head. “George, I thought we agreed to keep this low-key.”

He nodded, but there was a glint in his eyes. “Oh, of course. Very discreet. But just so you know, I’ve already ruled out a few people. I had a chat with the tire guys—they’re off the list.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Good to know.”

Oscar, standing a few feet away, overheard and sauntered over, clearly amused. “George is still on about that, huh?”

George straightened up, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I’m telling you, we’re making progress. Just need to connect a few more dots.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Sherlock. But keep it subtle, okay?”

Oscar chuckled, clapping George on the shoulder as we climbed into one of the trucks for the parade. “Just don’t go questioning the marshals next, alright?”

We settled into the large truck, with half the drivers in ours and the rest in another up ahead. George stood beside me, his detective mindset clearly still working overtime. “I’ll crack this eventually,” he said, his tone only half-joking.

As the truck rolled forward, George leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve narrowed it down to three main suspects.”

I raised an eyebrow, already bracing for the ridiculousness. “Okay, hit me. Who’s on your list?”

George, completely serious, ticked off the names on his fingers. “First, Gunther Steiner.”

Oscar, standing across from us, choked on his water. “Gunther? Seriously?”

George nodded. “Could be him, right? The man’s full of surprises.”

I bit back a laugh, playing along. “Sure, let’s put Gunther in the mix. Who else?”

George held up a second finger. “Then, there’s one of the guys from Dutch TV. He’s always hanging around too, and I saw him chatting with the engineers yesterday. Could be a cover.”

Oscar shook his head, thoroughly amused. “A Dutch broadcaster? Aren’t most of those guys well over 50?”

“And lastly,” George said, leaning in even closer, “Lewis.”

I burst out laughing. “Lewis? Really?”

George shrugged. “He’s known to be romantic. He certainly stole my heart in the last few years of us working together.”

“He’s like a dad to me, George!” I said, rolling my eyes.

George grinned, completely unfazed by the disbelief. “You never know. He surely is a handsome guy.”

As the parade began to roll forward, I glanced over at Lewis, who was standing on the other side of the truck, waving atfans as we passed by. He caught my eye and made his way over, always up for a chat.

“Ready for race day, Y/N?” Lewis asked, his smile easy and familiar.

I smiled, waving to the crowd. “Absolutely! I’ve got a good feeling about the car this weekend.”

Lewis nodded, his gaze shifting briefly to Franco, who was further up in the other truck, chatting with Carlos and Checo. “How’s it going with your teammate?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of understanding.

I sighed. “It’s just weird, you know? I’ve tried to build some kind of rapport with him, but he barely acknowledges me. Feels like I’m talking to a wall sometimes.”

Lewis nodded knowingly. “I’ve been there. Back when Nico and I were teammates, it was the same. Sometimes, no matter what you do, the team dynamic just doesn’t click.”

I glanced over at Franco, who was sitting up ahead in the other truck, chatting easily with some of the engineers. “Yeah, that’s exactly how it feels. I don’t want to be at odds with him, but it’s hard when he’s so distant.”

Lewis offered a sympathetic smile. “Best advice I can give? Focus on your own performance. If it’s meant to change, it will, could still be a lot of love there in the future. Who knows.”

I nodded, grateful for his words. “Thanks, Lewis. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the trucks rolled through the circuit, the noise of the crowd surrounded us, creating a whirlwind of energy. I waved and smiled, but my mind kept drifting back to George’s “investigation.”

Just then, George leaned over again, his voice still hushed. “I have a few more leads, you know. I think the key is in the smaller details.”

Before I could respond, Lando, standing a few meters behind us, called out with a cheeky grin. “Maybe Sherlock should focus on the people who see the little things, those who spend the most time near her during raceweekends.”

I shot him a look, but Lando just winked, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Just a thought,” he added.

Oscar laughed, nudging George. “Sounds like Lando’s onto something. Maybe you should listen to him.”

George, undeterred, gave a firm nod. “I am conducting an official investigation here, I will not be phased by the random gibberish coming out of Mr. Norris’s mouth.”

We all laughed, the banter flowing easily as the parade continued. The crowd’s cheers grew louder, and for a moment, I let myself get swept up in the excitement, pushing thoughts of the admirer and Franco to the back of my mind.

..

The parade had been fun, but as the race drew closer, the atmosphere shifted. There was a something in the air, an underlying tension that grew with every passing minute. The team was busy making final preparations, and the garage was a blur of activity—mechanics checking the cars, engineers pouring over data, and the hum of engines revving in the background.

I made my way to the starting position, taking a moment to clear my head. The race was the focus now, and I had to put everything else—George’s ridiculous suspects, Lando’s weird hints, and even the mystery admirer—aside. It was time to focus.

Franco, who qualified p9 and therefore was parked next to me, stood by the car, laughing with a couple of the engineers, his usual charming self. His eyes sparkled, and his energy seemed high. Can’t believe he can look this good after such an intense weekend. As always, he was completely at ease with the team—just not with me. I watched him for a moment, the distance between us feeling wider than ever. It wasn’t that I was angry with him, just... a bit sad. 

I took a deep breath and walked over, determined to at least wish him good luck before the race. Maybe today would be different.

“Hey, Franco,” I said, my voice light but hopeful. “Good luck out there.”

He glanced over at me, looking clearly caught of guard. “Yes, thanks,” he replied, his tone polite but clipped. “You too.”

Before I could say anything else, he turned back to the engineers, diving right into a discussion about strategy. It was like a door closing in my face—again.

I stood there for a moment, watching him interact so easily with everyone else. He had the charm, the confidence, those dreamy eyes, the effortless ability to make people like him. So why couldn’t we connect? I wasn’t asking for much, just a little more than this distant, cold professionalism. But every time I tried, he shut me down.

I sighed, turning away. There was no point in pushing it anymore. Franco wasn’t interested, and I couldn’t waste energy on something that clearly wasn’t going to change.

As I stepped into my car, I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline starting to build. I had a decent starting position, and the car felt good during practice. If I could nail the start and keep things clean, there was a good chance I’d score some solid points today.

My race engineer gave me a rundown of the strategy, and I nodded along, focusing on the task at hand. The tension was there, but it was the good kind—the kind that made you want to get out there and fight.

I cast one last glance over at Franco. He was in his element, all smiles and confidence as he chatted with the crew. For a second, I almost envied how easily things seemed to come to him.

I shook off the thoughts of Franco, my mind snapping into race mode. Whatever was going on between us—or rather, wasn’t going on—could wait. I had points to score.

..

The race had been a whirlwind. I was still buzzing with adrenaline as I pulled into the pit lane. It wasn’t a podium, but finishing P7 was a solid result, especially considering how tight the midfield battle had been. The car had felt good, and I’d managed to keep my head down and fight through the chaos of the race. As I unclipped my harness and climbed out of the car, a wave of relief washed over me. Another race down, and points on the board for Williams.

The garage was already alive with celebration—engineers high-fiving each other, the mechanics cheering for what had been a strong race for the team. Franco had finished P6, just ahead of me, which was a good result for both of us. I caught a glimpse of him surrounded by team members, all smiles as usual, and I felt a twinge of something I couldn’t quite place. Not jealousy, but... something else.

As the energy in the garage began to die down, I noticed people slowly filtering out, heading off to unwind or prep for the evening celebration. I lingered, not in any rush, soaking in the post-race energy. Eventually, it was just a few of us left, the hum of the paddock fading into a quiet calm.

With a deep breath, I gathered my things, deciding it was time to head back to my driver’s room to decompress. My body ached from the intensity of the race, and the adrenaline was finally starting to wear off. A hot shower and a moment of peace were exactly what I needed before joining the team later at the cocktail bar.

When I walked into my room, I spotted something that made me stop in my tracks.

On the bench next to my helmet sat another note—this time accompanied by a little box from Dior. Curious, I opened the lid, only to find the most stunning, sleek, golden bracelet inside. My heart skipped a beat as I moved closer, picking up the delicate piece of jewelry. The bracelet was simple but elegant, with a small star charm that caught the light as I held it in my hand. This wasn’t just another gesture. This felt different—more intimate.

With shaky hands, I unfolded the note, the familiar handwriting almost calming in its neatness.

"You were a star out there. Wish I could see you smile like this every day."

I sat down, holding the bracelet in one hand and the note in the other, a mixture of emotions washing over me. The thoughtfulness behind the gesture, the subtle encouragement—it all felt so personal. Whoever this person was, they saw me in ways that most people didn’t. The bracelet wasn’t just a gift; it was a reminder that someone out there was paying attention to more than just my results.

I smiled softly to myself, but after a moment, I carefully placed the bracelet back into its little Dior box. It felt too precious, too delicate to wear just yet. 

I glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to step out from the shadows with a confession. But of course, I was alone. The puzzle pieces were there, but the final picture still felt elusive. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was getting closer to figuring it out.

With the note tucked safely in my pocket and the box in hand, I left the room, ready to head to the team celebration.

As I left the room and stepped into the paddock, I nearly bumped into Kym Illman, who was walking by with his camera slung over his shoulder.

“Y/N! Just the person I was hoping to catch,” Kym said, grinning as he stopped in front of me. “Mind if I grab a quick post-race shot? Gotta capture that afterglow.”

I blinked, still feeling a bit dazed from everything that had happened, but I forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Go for it.”

Kym raised his camera, the familiar sound of the shutter snapping away as I stood there, trying to focus on anything other than the Dior box in my hand. The camera clicks were rhythmic, but I could feel the weight of the small box growing heavier by the second. Just as he lowered the camera, Kym’s eyes flicked down to the box.

“You got a little gift,” he commented casually, gesturing toward it with a nod. His easygoing smile remained in place, like he didn’t realize he was about to drop a bomb. “From Franco, right?”

I froze, the words hitting me like a sudden gust of wind. My pulse quickened, and I stared at him, my mind struggling to process what he’d just said. “Franco...?”

Kym, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside me, shrugged casually. “Yeah, I saw him going into your room after the race, carrying that little box. I assumed it was something from him for you. It’s good to see things are smoothing outbetween you two.”

He smiled again, a little too cheerfully, completely oblivious to the turmoil his words had caused. I forced a shaky smile in return, the reality of his comment sinking in slowly, like ice water trickling down my spine.

Franco had dropped off the bracelet. Franco had been in my room. Franco had been leaving me the notes and the gifts—this entire time?

My thoughts spiraled, trying to match the Franco I knew—the one who could barely hold a conversation with me, who always kept his distance—with the person behind these thoughtful, personal gestures. How could the same person be so cold and yet so considerate? None of it made sense. But then again, he was always around, like Lando hinted at.

“I, uh... will see you next week,” I finally managed to say, my voice coming out shakier than I’d intended.

Kym, still completely unaware of the bombshell he’d just dropped, gave an easygoing smile. “Great race today. You’re looking strong out there. I’ll see you around.”

With that, he waved and walked off, leaving me standing there, rooted to the spot. The guy who had barely acknowledged me for months, who had given me the cold shoulder in every single interaction, was the same person who had been leaving me these incredibly thoughtful, sweet notes?

I looked down at the Dior box in my hand, the logo glinting in the fading light of the evening. The weight of the bracelet inside felt heavier now, the realization settling in like a lead weight in my chest. It was Franco. What the hell?

But if it was him, why had he been so distant? Why couldn’t he just say something instead of hiding behind anonymous notes and secret gifts?

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. There was no point in overthinking it now. I needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to me.

Tonight, I was going to find Franco, and I was going to get to the bottom of this.

..

The cocktail bar slowly filled with the sounds of celebration. Laughter and the sound of clinking glasses travelled through the room as the Williams team reveled in the success of the race. The low lighting cast a warm glow over the bar, making it feel intimate, even amidst the lively chatter. I stepped inside, the gold bracelet glimmering softly on my wrist. The weight of it felt significant, not because of its size, but because of what it represented. Tonight, I needed answers, and I had a plan.

Franco stood near the bar, surrounded by a few engineers, his easy smile making him the center of attention, as always. He laughed at something one of the guys said, and for a moment, I watched him, still trying to reconcile the Franco I thought I knew with the one who had left me those thoughtful notes that made my stomach flutter. My fingers brushed the bracelet, and I felt a twinge of nervous energy rush through me.

I took a deep breath and made my way across the room toward him, my heart pounding as I rehearsed what I might say. The crowd seemed to blur as I neared, and suddenly it was just the two of us in this noisy, lively place.

“Franco,” I called out, keeping my voice light, though every nerve in my body was tingling.

He turned toward me, his green eyes immediately darting to my wrist. The moment they landed on the bracelet, a flicker of recognition passed through his expression—a quick joyful spark that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. But it was enough. That slight hesitation, the twinkle in his eye—it was all I needed to know.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little too calm, a little too composed. “Congrats on the race today. P7 is a solid finish.”

I forced a smile, stepping closer. “Thanks. P6 isn’t bad either. You were brilliant out there.”

He nodded, but I noticed his gaze flicker back to the bracelet again, like he couldn’t help himself. That spark was back in his eyes, and this time, it lingered.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, his voice a little quieter now.

His response was automatic, his words almost an afterthought. His attention wasn’t on the conversation—it was on my wrist, the bracelet. He couldn’t hide it.

I smiled knowingly. “Do you like my new bracelet?”

Franco blinked, his composure slipping for a second. “It’s, uh... nice. Gold, right?” His voice wavered ever so slightly, like he was trying too hard to sound indifferent.

I tilted my head, taking a step closer. “Yes, so pretty isn’t it? Someone gave it to me after the race.”

He nervously tried his best to look away and avoid my gaze, suppressing what seemed to be a proud smile. “Oh, that’s... thoughtful.”

I raised an eyebrow, watching him squirm. “It was, wasn’t it?”

The space between us felt charged, the air thick with tension. I waited, giving him a chance to come clean, but he stayed silent, his eyes glued to the bracelet.

He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever words he’d planned to use were lost. I couldn’t wait any longer. Grabbing his arm, I gently pulled him away from the group, toward the quieter, dimly lit corner in the bar, just out of sight. Franco didn’t resist, though I could feel the stiffness in his movements.

Once we were tucked away from prying eyes, I let go of his arm and turned to face him, crossing my arms as I leaned against the wall. “Franco, it was you, wasn’t it? The notes, the flowers, the bracelet—it’s all been you.”

Franco shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence completely gone. He avoided my gaze, running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit I hadn’t noticed before. “What? No—I don’t—” He faltered, the words tumbling out awkwardly. “I mean, I—”

I stepped closer, cutting him off with a raised eyebrow. “Franco.”

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. He glanced around, as if hoping for some sort of escape, but when none came, he finally met my eyes. “I didn’t know how else to... say anything,” he murmured. “It’s stupid, I know. We’re teammates, and I should’ve just—”

“What did you want to say?” I asked, my voice soft but firm.

 “You’re all I can think about,” he blurted out, the words unfiltered. “Every single day.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his confession. Franco’s face softened as he continued, his voice quiet but steady.

“I’ve been trying to act like I don’t care, like I’m just focused on the race and nothing else, but... it’s you. It’s always been you.”

My breath caught as his words sank in, but he didn’t stop there. He took a step closer, his voice lowering.

“You have no idea what you do to me, cariño,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “I love the way every time we’re eating something and you have the first bite and it is really good, actually good—like, not just passable, you crunch your nose up a little bit. It is so cute.”

He smiled slightly, the vulnerability in his voice clear as he kept going. “And after a good session, when you pull your helmet off, and your hair’s all over the place, but you don’t care because you’re too busy hopping from foot to foot, like you can’t hold in how excited you are. You think no one notices, but I do. It’s adorable, and it drives me crazy.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as he took another step closer, his voice barely more than a whisper now.

He stepped closer, his green eyes locking onto mine, more earnest than I’d ever seen them. “Even when you’re just standing there, doing nothing, you have this way of making me completely forget about everything else. Just watching you makes me lose my mind.”

I couldn’t help but beam at that, the sweetness of his words breaking through the tension. Franco glanced down, shaking his head slightly as if embarrassed.

“I thought if I stayed away, maybe it would stop, but it didn’t. So... I left the notes. The flowers. The bracelet. Because I didn’t know how else to say it.”

“You’ve cared all along,” I whispered, more a statement than a question. My heart was racing like there was a V12 engine hidden inside of it.

Franco nodded, his green eyes locking onto mine with such intensity it made my breath hitch. “I have. But we’re supposed to be competing for that number one seat, and I didn’t want to make it more difficult... with how I feel about you.”

His confession hung in the air between us, raw and real. The weirdness, the tension—it had all been leading to this moment.

I stepped even closer, until our bodies were almost touching, my voice soft. “Franco, you didn’t have to hide it. You could’ve just told me.”

For a moment, neither of us moved, the space between us charged with everything we hadn’t said. But now, with nothing left unsaid, I closed the gap, standing on my toes as I pressed my lips to his.

Franco froze for a second, caught off guard, but then he responded, his hands finding my waist as he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. It was slow at first, tentative, like we were both afraid to break the moment. But as the seconds passed, the kiss grew more urgent, more real, like all the months of tension were finally being released.

His hands tightened on my waist as he kissed me back, the heat between us growing with each passing second. My heart raced as I melted into him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened, hungry, like we were making up for lost time..

Franco’s hand slid up my side, as he moved to cradle my face. His thumb grazed my cheek, and I felt my breath hitch, a shiver running down my spine as the kiss intensified. His lips were warm, firm, moving against mine with an urgency that sent a thrill through my entire body. I kissed him back with just as much passion, feeling flutters in my stomach.

My back hit the wall, and the feel of him pressed against me made my pulse race even faster. There was nothing tentative about the way he kissed me now—his lips demanding, his touch sending sparks of heat through me. He broke the kiss for just a second, only to dive back in, like he couldn’t get enough.

But this time, instead of his lips finding mine again, they traveled down, brushing along my jaw and moving to my neck. The feel of his breath against my skin sent a shiver down my spine, my heart pounding in anticipation. His lips found the sensitive spot just below my ear, pressing soft, deliberate kisses that made me gasp quietly.

Franco’s hands found my waist again, softly fidgeting with the hem of my top and touching the bare skin below, as he trailed his soft lips against the curve of my neck. The combination of his touch and his breath was intoxicating, and I tilted my head back, giving him more access, my body responding instinctively to the way he explored my skin. His lips lingered there, slow and teasing, each kiss sending little jolts of electricity through me.

I could feel his breath hitch as he pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against my neck as he murmured, “You’re making it impossible to think straight.”

Before I could even respond, he found my lips again, the kiss deeper this time, more heated than before. His hands moved up, combing through my hair, pulling me closer as his lips moved with a hunger that made my knees weak. I kissed him back just as fiercely, losing myself in the feel of him. 

 It was overwhelming—in the best possible way. Every nerve in my body was on fire, responding to every little movement, every brush of his lips. Who knew Franco could feel so good?

When we finally pulled apart, breathless, I realized I hadn’t even noticed the noise of the bar fading around us, the rest of the world disappearing for that brief moment. Franco’s forehead rested against mine, our breaths mingling as we tried to catch them.

He didn’t say anything at first, his eyes still closed, like he was savoring the moment. And I understood that, because I was too. There wasn’t any need for words.

After a few beats, Franco finally opened his eyes, his gaze soft but intense. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges.

“Was it worth the wait?” I teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips.

His eyes darkened slightly, his lips curving into a grin. “More than you know.”

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against my forehead, lingering there for a moment as I closed my eyes and let the warmth of it settle between us.

I smiled up at him, still catching my breath. “I am so happy you’re not the tire guy.”

Franco blinked, a puzzled look crossing his face. “The... tire guy?”

I chuckled, shaking my head as I leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry about it,” I whispered against his mouth, enjoying his confusion. “You’ll catch on eventually.”

[leascorner]

j.b.b. | Been dreaming about you

Summary: "I had a dream about her..." Steve only frowned even more - how was that a bad thing? "y'know," Bucky added with a tilt of his head, trying to accentuate what he meant. He didn’t want to say it out loud; it was already as embarrassing as it was.

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, miscommunication (or no communication at all), Bucky depreciating himself, mention of war injuries, mention of physical attraction, mention of nudity and sexual act

Word Count: 2.7k

Masterlist

Bucky stopped at the doorstep as Y/N’s laugh made its way to his ears. 

His eyes immediately found her, sat down at the kitchen’s bar, a box of cereal in her hand. She was heartily speaking with Sam, and like any time she was talking about something she was passionate about she was speaking with her hands. Bucky couldn’t make out what they were discussing, something about milk and cereals that seemed to leave Steve, sat with them, totally unbothered.

While he really needed a cup of coffee before Tony’s briefing, he hesitated to go in. He wasn’t really in the mood for small talk - truth was, these days, he wasn’t in the mood to talk at all, especially to Y/N. Eyeing the coffee machine Y/N’s had her back turned to, he decided she was way too into her conversation to even notice him. He could just go in, take his coffee and leave. 

Yeah, it was a solid plan. 

Though it was without counting on Sam calling after him, as soon as he put a foot in the kitchen. Y/N turned to him right away, her face lighting up.

“Hi!” She greeted him, a big smile on her lips that Bucky tried very hard not to look at all.

Bucky only responded by a sharp nod and nearly run to the coffee machine. Her smile faltered slightly at his cold attitude. She watched him get himself a cup of coffee for a second more before she looked back to her own cereal bowl.

Steve frowned to the exchange; he was used to Bucky and Y/N being quite friendly towards each over. Ever since Bucky had been back in the country, Y/N had been part of his rehabilitation protocol. While Tony and Bruce were working on reversing his trigger words, Y/N was working with Bucky as a physical therapist, to try and fix his chronic right shoulder pain. She had been an army physical therapist, serving one tour in Afghanistan, and was specialized on injuries that led to limb amputation.

While the beginning had been complicated - especially due to how unstable Bucky was at the beginning, Y/N had succeeded on getting Bucky to open up to her. The last months, Steve had even found out Bucky was more eager than before going to his PT session. Whenever Y/N was around, Bucky - who normally wouldn’t stay in the common room and much preferred to stay in the quiet of his own room - would linger a little bit longer with them. Despite whatever Bucky would say, Steve just knew his friend had a crush on Y/N (by judging how red his face turned that one time Steve asked him, it was a pretty good crush). 

The blond watched as Bucky left rapidly after he got his coffee. Y/N too had watched him, Steve realized when he turned to her. Her face was wearing a small frown, and her eyes were fixed on the last place Bucky could have been seen.

“You alright?” he asked.

As always, Y/N looked back to him and smiled. She didn’t fool him though. Steve didn’t know what was wrong and clearly, she didn’t know either.

Over the next week or so, Steve found himself with a lot of déjà-vu.

Y/N would enter in a room Bucky was in and he would magically disappear. Bucky would find whatever good excuses not to do his physical therapy session - volunteering for missions he didn’t even have anything to do with in the first place. He even wouldn’t put a foot on the twenty-six floor - where Y/N had her office - if he knew she was most likely to be there - that was to say, basically every hour of every week day (Yes, Y/N had a slight work addiction).

It was clear for Steve now, Bucky was avoiding Y/N for whatever reason. Even Tony had asked if everything was alright between the two and he wasn’t the one to notice a lot of things about his own relationship - let alone other people’s relationship.

That morning, Steve had finally decided he would clear the air and talk to Bucky. He had asked him to join him in the kitchen for a coffee and this was of course at this exact same moment, Y/N had decided to get out of her office for some well-deserved break.

When she entered the room, Bucky looked like a deer caught in the headlights and stayed frozen in his seat, he didn’t have time to flee this time. Though he had been avoiding her, Y/N still seemed to be happy to see him.

“Hi!” she greeted them with a smile on her face. She picked her favorite cup from the cupboard and put the kettle on. She turned to Bucky naturally while she waited for the water to be ready. “How is your arm?”

“Well, actually.” Steve had barely heard Bucky as he mumbled.

“No pain whatsoever?”

“Nope.”

“Cool then!”

Y/N smiled as Bucky turned his attention back to his cup of coffee. She rolled on her feet, probably searching for a topic to continue the discussion - this was the most words they had exchanged in the last two weeks. She seemed to search and search again, but nothing came to her mind.

The sharp sound of the electric kettle stopping seemed to bring her back on earth. She looked at Steve and then back to Bucky, who was looking at everything but her. Again, Steve saw the way her smile faltered from his friend’s attitude and as her heart seemed to drop further in her chest. She was hurt he was pushing her away.

“Let me know if you need anything.” And without yet another glance at Bucky, she left. Totally forgetting about the cup of tea she was making.

Steve watched her go and then turned to Bucky, eyebrows furrowed. "What's going on between you two?"

Bucky looked up, eyebrows raised as if he was surprised Steve even asked about it. He didn’t even try to explain everything was fine and the blond didn’t know if it was because to him, everything was actually right, or because he was even surprised anyone had noticed his attitude.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know you were lying. It still hurts you.”

“’M fine,” Bucky muttered, eyes going back to his cup of coffee.

"Every time she is around lately, you just... disappear."

Bucky swallowed, hard. So it was that obvious. He really thought he was being subtle. He was such a nobody at the compound that making himself even smaller that usually, nobody noticed. Of course not.

"I had a dream about her..." Steve only frowned even more - how was that a bad thing? "y'know," Bucky added with a tilt of his head, trying to accentuate what he meant. He didn’t want to say it out loud; it was already as embarrassing as it was.

Oh! Steve seemed to understand.

"What's wrong about that?"

His friend gave him a knowing look. What was wrong with that? What was wrong with THAT? He had imagined kissing her, touching her, caressing her. He had seen what he imagined she looked like without her clothes on. It had felt real, so -so- real.

It had been a little bit more than two weeks now and he still remembered every little details. No matter how busy he was keeping his self, he still had flashes of it at the most random times of the day. At night, he couldn’t close his eyes without reliving the scene, feeling her hands on his body and so he lived of no sleep and a lot of black coffee. He couldn’t concentrate on anything, it was driving him crazy.

Now, he couldn’t look at her without thinking about this. He tried his best not to be in the same room as her or not speak to her. The simple thought of being near her was overwhelming, let alone to have her touching him during one of his physical therapy sessions.

"Bucky, that's fine. She is one of the nicest person I know. She will tell you if that makes her uncomfortable, you'll talk about it and that will be fine."

Bucky groaned. There was no way he would admit this to her; this was already as embarrassing as it was to discuss this with Steve. He had been used to the other way around. In his past life, he had been the one giving Steve advices on how to act with the ladies, even setting him up on blind dates. Somehow, he felt like he was this thirteen-year-old looking at pinup posters in New York streets again.

"And you never know, she might be interested after all."

"How could she?” Bucky huffed, disgusted with himself. “Have you looked at me recently?"

When Bucky finished his cup and turned to Steve, his body language was indicating he was done with this discussion. Steve looked at him with one of his signature sympathetic glances. To Bucky, it felt more like pity than anything else. Steve was pitying him, old poor brainwashed Bucky, who had been kidnapped and forced to do horrible things. Hydra had made him a living time bomb and he felt it more than ever now.

"Come on Bucky, you know that's not true!"

Too late, Bucky was long gone.

Bucky felt like he was cursed.

He had been trying to avoid Y/N. Just for a little bit longer, just for as long as he couldn’t forget about their dreamed intimate moment. Yet, he continuously found himself in situations where she was too. Like when Tony invited her to their weekly catch-up on how they were planning to remove his trigger words from his head. Like when Sam invited her to the team dinner.

Or like today, when he found himself in the elevator... Alone with Y/N.

They stayed silent for most of the ride. After the last few weeks of she couldn’t get Bucky to talk to her despite her best effort, Y/N seemed to be out of subjects to discuss and preferred looking at her hands. A minute before they arrived on the first floor though, she couldn’t help turn to him and ask the question that was burning her lips for a few days now:

"Did I do something wrong?"

Bucky looked up from his own feet to frown at Y/N, a couple of steps from him. He had purposely left a lot of space between them when she boarded the elevator, but even from where he was, he could still smell her perfume and somehow feel her skin touching his.

He frowned at her, as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. Y/N looked frustrated, even angry at little bit, and she had every right to be. They went from seeing each other twice a week for physical therapy session and sharing a few moments on every occasion they got to nothing at all.

She had replayed the events in her head, trying to find what she could have done wrong, and she just couldn’t make out what had happened.

"Your arm, it's bothering you, I can see," she pointed out. Even if he didn’t want to talk to - and even look at - her, she continued to watch out for him. "Why don’t you just come to me?"

"It's fine," Bucky sharply answered. A little too harshly.

The look of hurt on Y/N’s face made Bucky’s heart break. He knew he was unfair to her, yet he couldn’t admit what was going on. She was a too good person to be around him, a poor fuck-up man and a world known assassin.

Despite everything he was putting her through, Y/N didn't want to admit defeat and after the initial shock of the ton he had used to talk to her, she was ready to speak again.

“Please, just don't,” Bucky spoke more softly this time just at the same time as the elevator doors opened.

“Bucky, I-”

But he was gone before she could say anything more.

Y/N was now avoiding him like the plague.

At first, Bucky had been relieved. Now, his heart only sunk when they shared a look and Y/N was quick to look away. He was longing to see her yet whenever he would go up to her office, she wasn’t there. She didn’t venture to the compound’s kitchen any longer; and he knew it because a small coat of dust had started to cover her favourite cup. He had even tried to ask Steve how she was doing, but the only answer he got was always a “why don’t you ask her yourself?” - after the way he had talked to her, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to do it.

As usual, Bucky would be having his last coffee of the day during his afternoon break, just before he would go meet the team for a strength training session at the compound gym. Steve and his reusable water bottle stomped into the room and huffed finding Bucky here. He continued his way to the water dispenser to fill it. Bucky watched, frowning, as he pushed the button so hard it nearly felt off. His annoyance was irradiating all around him and Bucky didn’t remember to have seen him so… sulking before.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked his friend’s back.

Steve’s shoulder dropped as he seemed to take a breath in. He turned slowly, a shadow on his face. His water bottle was very close to being overfilled and his hand also very close to crush it.

“Y/N has resigned,” his voice was a bit deeper than usual, “effective immediately.”

“I don’t understand-”

“She is leaving, Bucky.”

The information seemed to get to Bucky’s brain in an instant. He immediately got up, literally throwing the stool he was sat on away. He run to the elevator and when it didn’t come quick enough, he decided he would run up the stairs to the level Y/N’s office was on. He ran up the corridor and nearly took the door of his office off the hinges while opening it.

Y/N was there, putting the last books she had on her shelves in a box. She stopped in her tracks from the surprise of the brutal intrusion and gave him a dirty look.

“I really don’t have time for this.”

Her voice was cold and sharp, and Bucky wondered if that was how he had talked to her. It hurt him so much to see only anger in her eyes and to know that everything they had shared was lost. All because of him.

And that was probably why he spoke without thinking:

“I’m attracted to you.”

Y/N dropped the book she had in her hand. She looked at him - he looked at her – and Bucky didn’t let any time for her to open her mouth to speak. He didn’t want to lose the courage he had gather to open up his shell.

“I’ve been attracted to you for… well, since being back, but I only realized this wasn’t just a crush – Peter told me that word – until very recently.” He breathed shakily. “I didn’t know how to handle. This (he gestured between the two of them) is much more than just physical attraction. I have feelings for you and I shouldn’t be feeling that.”

“Bucky…” Y/N sighed, getting around her desk to approach him.

“You and I know, I can’t be feeling like that,” Bucky repeated while Y/N shook her head. “And I am so sorry. I know this doesn’t change how badly I have acted towards you, but I hope with time that I can earn your trust again.”

“I am pretty sure we had this conversation before,” Y/N told him, putting away a string of his hair. She was now in front of him, so close to what they had never been in the last few months. “You can’t decide what other people can think or feel. I know it’s easier to push people away when things get tough, but we need you to tell us what is going on in this brain of yours. Okay?”

Tears in his eyes, Bucky nodded. Y/N smiled at him sweetly and all of his problem suddenly seemed to have disappeared.

“I understand this can be a very difficult thing to hear, but you are a good person, Bucky. Whatever happened to you doesn’t define you.” She hugged him, so hard, as if they were reunited after a long time away. “And for the record, I also have a crush on you.”

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Cab Calloway - Minnie the Moocher 1931

"Minnie the Moocher" is a jazz-scat song first recorded in 1931 by Cab Calloway and His Orchestra, selling over a million copies and was the biggest chart-topper of that year. "Minnie the Moocher" is most famous for its nonsensical ad libbed ("scat") lyrics. In performances, Calloway would have the audience and the band members participate by repeating each scat phrase in a form of call and response, eventually making it too fast and complicated for the audience to replicate. The song is based lyrically on Frankie "Half-Pint" Jaxon's 1927 version of the early 1900s vaudeville song "Willie the Weeper".

"Minnie the Moocher" was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1999, and in 2019 was selected for preservation in the National Recording Registry as "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" by the Library of Congress.

In 1978, Calloway recorded a disco version of "Minnie the Moocher" on RCA Records which reached number 91 on the Billboard R&B chart. "Minnie the Moocher" has been covered or simply referenced by many other performers. Its refrain, particularly the call and response, is part of the language of American jazz. At the Cab Calloway School of the Arts, which is named for the singer, students perform "Minnie the Moocher" as a traditional part of talent showcases.

In 1932, Calloway recorded the song for a Fleischer Studios Talkartoon short cartoon, also called Minnie the Moocher, starring Betty Boop and Bimbo, and released on March 11, 1932. Calloway and his band provide most of the short's score and themselves appear in a live-action introduction, playing "Prohibition Blues". The thirty-second live-action segment is the earliest-known film footage of Calloway. In the cartoon, Betty decides to run away from her parents, and Bimbo comes with her. While walking away from home, Betty and Bimbo wind up in a spooky area and hide in a hollow tree. A spectral walrus—whose gyrations were rotoscoped from footage of Calloway dancing—appears to them, and begins to sing "Minnie the Moocher", with many fellow ghosts following along, during which they do scary things like place ghosts on electric chairs who still survive after the shock. After singing the whole number, the ghosts chase Betty and Bimbo all the way back to Betty's home. In 1933 another Betty Boop/Cab Calloway cartoon with "Minnie the Moocher" was The Old Man of the Mountain.

Calloway performed the entire song in the movie Rhythm and Blues Revue (1955), filmed at the Apollo Theater. Much later, in 1980 at age 73, Calloway performed the song in the movie The Blues Brothers. Calloway's character Curtis, a church janitor and the Blues Brothers' mentor, magically transforms the band into a 1930s swing band and sings "Minnie the Moocher" when the crowd becomes impatient at the beginning of the movie's climactic production number.

"Minnie the Moocher" received a total of 71,1% yes votes!

[princess-ibri]

Ok I did some more Live Action redesigns xD

Of course I had to redesign Belle's ballgown, but I wanted to see if I could take the shape of it from the film and at least give it some more ✨️Magic✨️, and I think I've succeeded:)

I kinda did the same with her village dress too. I actually kinda liked the look in the film, it was at least memorable, so I just made it a little more period, added a proper bodice, changed that random side cloth out for a pocket and cuz I loved that she had glasses in that one stage version gave her a pair here as well

For her winter screen I gave her a more voluminous cloak to actually keep the cold out (also some Red RidingHood vibes) and gave a nod to her Enchanted Christmas look in the dress she has underneath.

Also always liked that green dress on her, so decided to have some fun and switch it up to being the one she leaves and returns to the castle in. Green for new beginnings and to tie into the Enchantress's magic that's about to be broken and all that

Also spruced up her wedding dress. I actually think the movie one is very lovely but it doesn't really stand out/feel like it fits the time period, so I jazzed it up.

Also I've been spinning a tiny rewrite idea round in my head. If they wanted to delve into Belle's mom's past/give Maurice a real reason for keeping her death a mystery (like seriously, why does he do that) I think they should go back to the og fairytale and have Belle's mom be a fairy.

Either have her connected to the Enchantress (friend, sister) or heck have her be the Enchantress like in the Twisted Tales (not what I'd pick myself but it lends to a tighter narrative) and have Maurice feel guilt for doing whatever happened that caused her inadvertent death/separation---and this could tie back in to Belle and her own complicated relationship with hwr magical being

Have that magic book (if it must be there) show people's pasts instead of being a transportion device Belle doesn't even use to get to her dad. It's meant for the Beast to reflect on his prior actions, but Belle also uses it to discover what happened with her mother.

Also give that poor Beast a proper canon name. I waited the whole movie and he never got a name!!

[dekariosmagic]

Safe and Sound- Gale x Tav/Reader

Paring: Gale Dekarios x Tav/Reader (Referred to as Tav)

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Word Count: 1,515

Description: Gale seemed to take the news from Elinster fairly well, or so it appeared.

Other Things: Fluff. Hurt comfort. Uses lyrics from the song "Safe and Sound" by Taylor Swift. Pre-relationship (but they're basically there).

Warnings: Panic attack. References to potential story canon suicide.

Elminster’s news had been a bombshell in and of itself on the party. Gale had seemingly taken the news in stride, perhaps the best in the camp. 

Gale made dinner as usual, while everyone avoided the singular topic on all their minds. Tav assumed no one knew how to bring up the topic to the man himself. 

It wasn’t until Gale finished his own portion and took off to his tent for an early night, did the rumbling start. 

Tav did her usual rounds, trying to ignore the feeling of a rock settled in her chest. And with each companion she talked to with their collective rage and disgust toward the situation and goddess of magic, it just seemed to get heavier. 

It felt good to know the rest of them were all on the same page. That they’d rather fight the goddess herself than willingly give up their wizard. 

Hells Tav was ready to take the goddess on herself, as foolish as the task would be. The fact Mystra felt she could demand that of him. The ultimate sacrifice to end a threat to her power, and get rid of a loose end in one go. She’d not spoken to him since the orb incident, and this was how she broke the silence?

Her heart hurt for Gale and herself. The entire situation couldn’t be easy, not nearly as easy as he made it sound as he accepted the mission from Elminster at least. Hearing from an ex of a relationship that ended so badly would be tricky, make her his goddess of magic and it was far more complicated.

And her own feelings complicated it. She wanted to grab him by his shoulders and scream. Tell him to defy Mystra, to think, to not accept this outrageous thing he’s been asked to do. To spurn Mystra’s words and stay here, with her, in this… whatever they were building. 

She’d become far too attached to him already. But everyday at his side just added to the growing list of things she adored about him. The one bright spot in a bleak road ahead. 

Walking to the front of Gale’s tent, Tav freezes as she contemplates calling out to him. Whether she should try to talk tonight, or leave it for later after he’s had more time to think. Or just let him stick to his own resolve entirely…

Her thoughts are cut short at the sound of a broken sob on the other side of the fabric. 

Without a thought, she slips into the tent and throws her arms around his midsection from behind. His body tenses in surprise, but it does little to interrupt the next sob from his lips. 

She squeezes him tighter as his body shakes, using one hand on his front to rub slow circles on his stomach as she rests her head on his back.

“Y-you don’t h-have-“ Gale begins before slapping a hand over his mouth trying to stifle the next sob, sucking air in desperately around it. 

“Gale, I’ve got you. It’s ok to let it out. I’m staying right here, I promise.” 

She feels him nod more than sees it. She sways them slightly as he shakes, taking a moment to spin herself around his body and hold him more tightly from the front. 

His arms quickly wrap around her, his face pressing to her hair. 

Her fingers rub gently into his back as she softly starts to hum a melody, his tears running down onto her as he tries to mumble an apology.

She holds him for what felt like hours, lost in their own moment. His shaking lessens, and the sobs dwindled to small hiccups over time. 

Turning her head to glance around the room, she spots his bedroll a few steps away. 

“Let’s lay down,” she says softly, backing them toward the bedroll and carefully tugging him along with her. 

She drops down to her knees when she reaches it, grabbing his hands to tug him down to the bedding with her. Adjusting his pillows around and finding a blanket, she lies on her back and holds her arms out to him. 

He studies her for a moment before laying down and snuggling into her, his head resting on her shoulder as she pulls the blanket up around them. 

Her fingers slowly card through his hair as he buries his face against her neck, a shuddered breath leaving his lips as his hand grips at her shirt fabric on her stomach. 

She resumes her humming after they settled in, his face turning from her neck to glance up at her. 

“What are you humming?” He asks quietly, his voice raspy and unsure. 

“I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go. When all those shadows almost killed your light, I remember you said don't leave me here alone,” she sings softly to the melody she’d been humming. 

“Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone, gone.

“Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound,” she finishes singing, rubbing a hand along his arm. 

“My mother would sing it to me at night when I was upset,” she finally answers. “When times are hard now I hum it to myself. Quite often lately if I’m to be honest.” 

“It’s beautiful,” he responds, his eyes reddened and puffy, but looking at her with adoration. “You’re beautiful. And I’m undeserving of your company.” 

“Oh hush,” she says and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re deserving of far more than you believe. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to have people care about you, and you deserve to live.”

“I… I don’t want to die,” he whispers after a moment. 

“Good, hold onto that,” she says squeezing him closer to her. “I will find another way. We will. There’s always another way. I’m not going to give up on you. You’re enough as you are Gale.”

His face presses back up against the juncture between her shoulder and neck, a shaky exhale on her neck, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” she whispers just loud enough for him to hear as she feels him smile against her skin. 

“Would you stay here with me tonight? Only if you’re comfortable with it,” he asks quickly, keeping his face hidden from her. 

“Of course, I’m always up for a cuddle with my favorite wizard,” her fingers go back to playing with his hair.

“If you only know one wizard, I’m both your favorite and least favorite,” he jokes with a dry chuckle. 

“I’ve met a few, but you make a good point. I’m always up for a cuddle with my favorite person,” she amends. 

His hand drifts from her stomach to her side, holding her closer to him, “If you continue this I might believe you and you’ll be stuck with me, then you’ll be sorry for throwing those words around.”

“Is that a promise?” She grins and lays her head against his. 

“Promise?”

“If I keep saying you’re my favorite and that I care about you, I’ll be stuck with you? Because I can easily keep repeating the truth each day.” 

“I-I don’t know what… I mean, I still have that order and I might, but maybe,” he stumbles over his words, his brow scrunching in thought.

“You don’t have to think about it right now,” her hand lightly grips his chin to turn his head so she can see his face and presses her finger between his brows. “No decisions, sacrifices, or answers are needed right now.”

He blinks rapidly in response, tears building in the corners of his eyes again as he searches her face then nods, lolling his head back against her shoulder.

Tav lets her fingers drift down his cheek, then follows along his jaw slowly, enjoying the prickle of his beard on her skin.

He stretches some in her embrace, leaning into her touch, his eyelids drooping.

“Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake,” she promises as she feels sleep starting to come to her as well. 

“A wondrous sight to awake to I’m sure,” he smile softly, his eyes drifting shut. 

Tav continues to stroke along his cheek and jaw until his breathing evens and his nose twitches in his sleep when her hand accidentally brushes against it. 

Holding back her chuckle, she wraps her arm back around Gale and snuggles her face against his hair, letting her own eyes drift shut. 

She sends out a quick prayer, to any god that may listen, that she find a way to get them all through this. Her new little odd family would all make it through this intact, or she herself would die trying. His goddess may have given up on him, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to. 

--------

My Main Account: @lykaonimagines AO3 User: Lykao (Marvel, Sherlock, Cyberpunk 2077, and other video game fics)

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously

parings -> ( eventually ) enhypen x reader genre -> soulmate au, fantasy au, angst warnings -> angst word count -> 2.9k

abstract -> Humans were alot fragile than you think...

y/n's perspective

After accepting Jay we took things relatively slower than with Sunoo, Jungwon, Niki, and Sunghoon. Sunghoon was actually the one who didn’t rush things but everything was faster with him. Which is funny because so did Jungwon.

Jungwon went on for a week to convince me that Sooha wouldn't get in between what he wanted to happen. He continued to convince me… and Sunoo I already accepted but thought it should be a little harder for him. Niki was a troublemaker… but he was a peacemaker for me. He also took things slow which was nice.

Sunghoon was definitely like an overprotective boyfriend, whilst Jungwon was actually very jealous. He hated sharing attention since he was the only one who didn’t need to share since I accepted them. Sunghoon was a big puppy… protective but his wolf, Solon, was really cute. Really cuddly. 

Jay though… Everything was slow. He was very caring though, which I appreciate. 

Everything was nice… Heeseung was still complicated. I didn’t know how to feel about him. Jungwon And Jay explained how he’s been acting but it wasn't in my place to comfort him. 

“You okay, love?” I heard as I saw my first soulmate. “Yeah, just tired?” I said and he kissed the top of my head. “You should rest up. Have you eaten yet?” he asked and I nodded. 

“Jay was here for lunch a few hours ago,” I said and he smiled. “I’m glad he isn’t as bad as I thought he’d be,” he said and I chuckled. “With him and Sunoo you can’t forget to eat anymore” he teased and I smiled. 

Jungwon was also the same where he forgot to eat so seeing them get along again was good for his health.

“y/nnie!!!” I heard as I saw Niki. 

“Hello to you too,” I said and he laughed. “When are we getting the results for sports day?” He asked only because the vampires and Riverfield were betting if they won that they’d get to do anything to their class logo. 

“It’s being looked over by the teacher administration” I answered and he grumbled. Despite not actually playing he did try to rig a few things. 

“Sunoo also is fighting with Wonyoung about the masquerade ball they're organizing, '' he added and I sighed. The ball was something Bright Sun was quite known for. Now that we’re hitting the end of the year, we got the okay that we can do a ball to end the school year. 

“I’ve seen the pictures of old Bright Sun masquerades, it looks so magical,” Jungwon said and I smiled. “What's so special about it anyway?” Niki asked and I chuckled. 

“It's actually called Samhain. Usually, it's celebrated on another day but for the school, we do it at the end of the year. With the sudden merge this semester I didn’t think we’d be able to do it” I explained and they nodded. 

‘What is it about?” he asked and I sighed. “Actually it's quite sad. It's to celebrate those who have passed but, we try to go all out with this event” I said and they nodded. 

“y/n! Control your leeches!” Wonyoung said angrily. She must've gotten angry with Sunoo? “I’m sorry– Hey!! You can’t just shut me out now?!” Sunghoon yelled as Sunoo was next to him but passed through? So she was mad at Sunghoon?

“He wants to interfere in planning when it isn't his business! He just announces that's it!” she said as she now pouted on her desk. “Hmm, maybe you should keep him kicked out of here” Sunoo said as he laughed at Sunghoon who’s jaw dropped at the slander. 

“y/n!!” he yelled in hopes of defense. “What did you suggest?” I asked and he smiled at finally getting a chance. “So, I suggested if it could be like a homecoming–” “No” I cut him off. “Hah!” Wonyoung let out. “You didn't even let me finish!” he whined. 

“Just let them plan, it seems too important to add things to it. Be happy we were even included and not just their class” Jungwon said and he sighed as he was finally able to enter. 

“That's true… if it was my decision it would only be a Bright Sun exclusive event,” Wonyoung said. “But that's mean” I heard as I saw Sooha. She walked through the barrier?

“Huh? How…” Wonyoung muttered as I saw Heeseung and Jake shut out the barrier. “She’s a human-vampire hybrid,” Jungwon said and Sooha smiled awkwardly and bowed in respect. “Why are you three here?” she asked. “Oh! We wanted to make a suggestion for the upcoming event!!” Sooha said and the boys next to me sighed. Wonyoung also looked like she could kill anyone right now… 

“You're not even a council member,” Wonyoung said and Sooha smiled. “I am actually! Jungwon and Heeseung agreed to let me be a part of the Decelis Council!” she said and I looked at Jungwon who sighed. “When did this happen?” I asked and he smiled softly. “The morning,” he said and Wonyoung did not look happy. “What's your suggestion?” I asked and she grinned happily. 

“So! I was thinking of maybe… having the school do a sort of Valentine-inspired event? Where you can ask to be someone's date to the event!” She suggested it and I didn't hate it. I looked at Wonyoung who looked at me back. 

“I actually like the idea” I said and Wonyoung nodded stubbornly. 

“Really?!” she said and I smiled. “We could do it to help fundraise for student council funding,” I said and Wonyoung nodded in agreement. “So telegrams, flowers, all the Valentine's day junk again?” she asked I nodded.

“We could announce it I suppose” Wonyoung also added, accepting the suggestion. “Could I help organize it?” Sooha asked. 

“Oh? Well, the event planners would most likely do that so you could work with Sunoo and Niki in Decelis” I said and she nodded. “Who are the other event planners?” she asked. 

“Me, Maki, Jacob, Kevin, Niki, Sunoo, and now you” Wonyoung said and Sooha looked disappointed. 

“K is the vice president, he does errands for EJ so he mainly works around me and Wonyoung, Jungwon, Sangyeon and Juyeon” I explained in which she nodded clearly trying to hide her disappointment. 

“Thank you for your suggestion Sooha! It was really clever” I said, giving her a compliment in which she grinned widely. “I wanna be of help!” she said as she skipped towards Heeseung and… Jake. 

“Thank you, for being nice,” Jungwon said and I nodded. I never hated her… but I never did put in an effort. 

Heeseung and Jake made their choice.

jay’s perspective

“No! Go away!” I scolded as I put the food down by the door of her dorm. “Come on I just–” “No Jake! You knew what you were doing… there's no explaining that. You chose Sooha so leave her alone” I said and he didn't want to listen. 

I suddenly saw her stare at us in shock. She looked at Jake frozen as to why he was here. “I need to talk–” “No, he’s just leaving,” I said as I got in front of her facing Jake. “Quit the overprotective bullshit,” he said and I noticed she gripped her hands around my uniform.

She was scared of him. 

“Jake, leave or I'll get Sunoo to make you” I said and he scoffed. “No, look y/n I just want to explain myself” he said now trying to look behind me to her but I decided to not let him near her. I wasn’t gonna let him accidently hurt her again. I defended him… it was an accident he does things based on emotion. She did nothing wrong though… and I won't let my friendship with him affect that. 

“Can I please just talk–” “I don’t want to talk to you” she cut him off before I could. I could see his shocked expression but he didn't look like he was gonna give up. 

“Why is everyone acting like I killed someone?! Look I know I hurt you but it was an accident!” he started getting emotional and I felt her now pressing herself against my back trying to protect herself. “Jake, just go, Heeseung–” “You don't understand!!” he said while he used his fire. I noticed how she now crouched down in a ball trying to protect herself. I crouched down petting her hair. “Hey, come on let's get you inside the dorm” I said but she didn't move. 

“I didn’t mean to–” “You never do. Jake quit it… you rejected her move on. Go find Heeseung before I do… and you know he won’t be happy knowing what you're trying to do” I warned and he now looked frustrated with himself. 

“I just don’t understand why she’s so scared of me?” he muttered and I scoffed. “You never understand why fire hurts because you're immune. You’ve never felt a burn in your life, and you haven’t had your soulmate hurt you and reject you” I said as I picked her up bridal style and grabbed her key to open her dorm. 

“Go to the dorms, Jake. Whatever you’re trying to do is useless” 

jake’s perspective

I left feeling stupid. I really just need to explain… but I didn't mean to use my fire again.

I went to the dorms where things were normal? Everyone was bonded with her besides me and Heeseung. He acted like everything was normal and there wasn’t anything different than before. Everything was different for me though and… I felt like an outsider. 

Jungwon and Heeseung worked alongside each other like always whilst Sunghoon and Sunoo were friends again. They hung out outside the dorms often to go to the city and now they're the same as before, even planning on things they could do with their soulmate. Niki and Jay even got along again… Jay took care of a lot of the younger members and… I had no one. 

Everyone was mad at me for losing control. The only person I had left was Sooha and she… she’s mated to that Riverfield wolf. I had no one… and now I was ostracized by everyone. 

I opened my palm to reveal my power… it really was a curse. What would it feel like? Would it really hurt as much as people say it would?

I sighed and went again… I knocked on her door. Jay should be gone by now… I heard her footsteps rushing to the door and opened it only to slam it closed again before I could speak. 

“I… I'm sorry you're so scared of me. I wanted to make a request… I want you to make it so I could feel burns” I said and I was met with silence. I was gonna walk away thinking it was stupid to try when she opened the door… only by a crack though.

“W-what?” she asked. I sighed… “I wanna know how it feels” I said and her eyes showed confusion. I could barely see her but I could see that she was wearing casual clothing… and the bandages around her neck. 

“Why?” she asked and I didnt know either. “I think I just need to understand it,” I said and shook her head. “That goes against the rules under Bright Sun, I can't–” “It's only against the rules if you cause me harm. It wouldn’t be you, doing it” I said and she still shook her head. 

I was disappointed but I understood it was a crazy request. 

“Why… Why were you here earlier?” she asked and I was shocked she’d let me talk. “My fire works on my emotions… I didn’t mean to hurt you. It also may not seem genuine but I do regret what I did a lot. Your mates have made it very clear what it did and I’m sorry” I said and she nodded. 

“I’m sorry, the thing with Sooha didn’t work out” she said and it shocked me. Why did she sound so genuine? She was supposed to be my mate… yet it seemed like she was content at leaving me at arms length.

“Me too… I'm sorry to have scared you and taken your time”

I woke up the next morning confused. 

I didn’t like to be around Heeseung as of late because of my thoughts being about our mate. I hated how Sooha wasn’t our soulmate. I’ve loved her since… I've met her. Love at first sight. 

Who knew it was one-sided? She was even my first kiss…

I walked out of my room to see Jay making breakfast for everyone.

Sunoo and Niki were at the counter while I assumed Heeseung, Jungwon, and Sunghoon were gone already. Today was the announcement… They're gonna announce a masquerade ball for Bright Sun and extend the invitation out to the other academies. 

I left the dorm… I knew they probably didn’t want to speak to me. I went outside to get fresh air. 

It's when I saw… y/n and K?

He was carrying a basket filled with flowers and I noticed the smell of blood. I wasn’t the best with control… the smell of it was sweet and almost addicting. 

“Jake?” I heard him ask and I snapped out of it. She still hid from me. “Isn’t this scandalous? She has five mates you know?” I asked and he glared at me. “I was only helping her while her mates were busy. Besides I know the forest better than you all” he said as they started to walk away. 

“y/n!” I decided to yell out to her. It made her flinch but looked back at me to at least hear me out. “Did you change your mind?” I asked and she shook her head. “I don’t understand why you want that,” she said and I smiled. “Jay was right you know… I’ve never felt an ounce of pain in my life. I just wanted to know how it felt” I said and she nodded. 

“I won’t be the reason, you get hurt. However, I have a potion that you might be interested in” she said and I was curious. Potions? I didn’t hate witches, it was just a personal grudge that my soulmate wasn’t Sooha.

“Ok, if you think it’d help,” I said and she nodded. “I’ll tell Jungwon to give it to you,” she said and I shook my head. “No! They… can’t know of this please?” I asked and she looked confused. 

“Heeseung will figure out–” “He won’t… I know how to trick him” I said and she nodded. “Uhm… I guess you can–” “I can bring it to him” K offered and I hated how he butted into this. 

Who did he think he was? Sunoo and Niki were not the jealous type… but Sunghoon and Jungwon even Jay might be annoyed at how close he is with her. 

“Oh! Then K will give it to you!” 

“Jake!” I heard as I saw K approach me.  He had a box wrapped in a cloth. “I don’t know what it is, frankly she didn’t want to tell me. But if you approach her again, I will tell Heeseung” he said and I scoffed. 

I grabbed the box and I glared at him. “Who do you think you are huh? She’s accepted five soulmates already… she’s not yours–" "She’s not yours either,” he said and I felt myself get angrier but I didn’t want to ruin the box in my hands. 

“The little crush you have on her, it's pathetic. When Sooha announced she was your soulmate, I even respected it. You? You’re running around trying to get her attention… how low of you” I said as I turned away to walk. 

“At least I could treat her better than you,” he said and I sighed. I laughed it off and walked away. I was doing this to better understand people. So I couldn't ruin this box. 

I went to the dorm where I noticed no one was here. I unwrapped the box to see a potion and books. 

This potion is meant to make you human for twenty-four hours. Please be careful. Humans are a lot more fragile than you’d think. You’ll still be able to use your power but it will hurt if you do, you’ll also be able to bleed. I know you didn’t want them knowing so avoid anything that might cut you. I also included a book on human needs. If you need help, I'm open to helping, just be a little kinder and patient about it. 

I didn’t know I was smiling until I looked up at my mirror. Why was I smiling? Her help? Her letter?

I shook it off and took the potion in my hands. I opened it and drank it. It tasted awful but I didn’t feel any different. I still felt thirsty… did it not work?

Vampires were supposed to take at least two blood bags a day to not feel murderous. I took one and tried to drink it when I felt sick. I immediately spit it out. 

Did it actually make me human?

I looked in the mirror and noticed I didn't look any different. It looked like I was a healthy vampire drinking blood bags and not skipping any meals. 

Meals… how was I gonna eat from the cafeteria?! I wasn’t allowed in the human cafeteria since my ID card was a vampire… 

How was I supposed to play human?

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[ckret2]

Chapter 14 of Human Bill Is A Prisoner And Only Mabel Is Being Nice To Him (real title TBD), and the conclusion of the first big plot arc:

Also featuring: what Pacifica has been up to the past year! Dipper and Mabel arguing about Bill! The hand witch, briefly! Funny pranks that Ford does not think are funny! And other things.

####

Dipper and Mabel waved goodbye as they left the Hand Witch's cave. The witch, her boyfriend, and Mabel's spare right hand on the witch's shoulder waved back.

"Thanks for helping us out on such short notice," Dipper said.

"Oh, any time!" the witch said. "Come back whenever you like! I'll make tea and snacks again."

"Girl, you know I'm always up for more of your..." Mabel flashed the witch a pair of finger guns and a wink, "... finger food!"

Her spare hand made a finger gun back. The witch laughed so hard she wheezed. Her boyfriend leaned down to pat her back.

As Mabel and Dipper wove their way down the Hand Witch's mountain, Mabel said, "It's good to see she's found a relationship. She seems happy! And less desperate."

"I dunno, I'm kind of worried about that guy. What if he's just using her to learn her handomancy secrets?"

"Naaah, I'm not worried about him. He's a really bad apprentice. I think he's just letting her train him as a bonding activity. Like when girls let their boyfriends explain football so they can watch games together." Mabel turned to peer at the dark cave above. "Do you think Alehandra will be lonely without me?"

"Wh—you already named it?"

"Hands come in pairs, Dipper. Maybe she'd like a twin sister." She looked at Dipper's hands. "Or brother."

"Oh no. Uh-uh, I can see where this is going. We've already gotten in enough trouble with that stuff."

Mabel's phone buzzed. They must have gotten near enough town to get reception again. She pulled out her phone, saw a text from Soos, and swiped it open. "Mabel, this is Ford..."

"Speaking of growing extra hands," Dipper said. "Mabel... I think this whole thing is a bad idea. I mean—worse than it was originally. Getting Bill magic hair growth formula is one thing, but, growing extra limbs? I don't know what he could do with that, but he could do something."

Mabel's thumbs hovered over the screen, paralyzed as she tried to figure out what to tell Ford and Dipper at the same time.

The truth was, she'd had the same worry as Dipper. She lowered her phone. "Yeah, okay, maybe he could possibly do something with it hypothetically—but clearly the whole reason he asked for it was for the hair growth part! Because he's bald. So maybe he just... doesn't care about the rest? If we get only enough Hairy Fairy to regrow his hair and use it all up, then he won't have a chance to use it for anything evil, right?"

"Unless he's not even interested in regrowing his hair." Dipper pulled off his backpack and rummaging through it until he found the advertisement Ford had given him. "Look, everything in this ad lines up with what Bill told us about Hairy Fairy's history. If he knew that much, he definitely could know it can grow extra limbs. He might have even known it was coming back on the market before he saw the commercial! What if the only reason he burned off his hair was to manipulate us into getting this formula?"

"What would he do with a bunch of extra body parts?" Mabel asked. "He's clumsy enough with the ones he already has. I kinda think more would make him weaker."

"I don't know, but—I didn't know what he wanted a 'puppet' for, either, and see how that turned out?"

Mabel bit her lip, looking at Dipper's face—and then looked down at her phone, rereading the last sentence of Ford's text. "I'm worried he might be up to something nefarious."

She couldn't have this conversation in two places at once. She typed a quick reply to Ford—"It's too complicated to explain in text! I'll tell you when Dipper and I get home. (It's NOT dangerous, don't worry!) ❤️"—and stuffed her phone in her pocket. "Okay," she said. "Look. Sure, it makes sense to be extra paranoid with Bill—especially when we saw him finish his big master plan last summer—but honestly? I kinda don't think he's that good. Think about how many times Grunkle Ford says he tried and failed to get into our universe! I don't think he's a big alien super-genius with a careful zillion-year plan; I think he's just some guy that needed to try a zillion years just to get one plan to work. And that's... kind of lame. What can a guy like that do with hair formula?"

Dipper absorbed that. "Wow. Yeah, actually, when you put it that way, that—that isn't very impressive." He grimaced. "But—okay, even if he didn't have a complicated escape plan, what if he saw the hair formula and thought of one that he needs extra arms for—?"

"Dipper, we can 'but what if' Bill forever!" She flung out her hands in frustration. "If we second-guess everything he says, we'll start wondering stuff like 'what if he wants us to distrust him so he can reverse-psychology us into doing the thing he actually wants?' It'll drive us crazy! And letting Bill drive us crazy won't make us safer! We can't spend another summer being paranoid about Evil Bill Tricks!"

"Okay yeah, you have a point, but—why is the solution 'do what he wants'? Why isn't it 'tell him no, and cover our ears whenever he tries to say he wants something so we don't even know what he wants and he can't manipulate us'?"

Mabel's mind flashed back to the sad ghost under the zodiac blanket, huddled in a dusty corner. She looked at her feet and kicked a clump of grass self-consciously. "Because... he's sad and it's making me sad."

Dipper groaned. "Mabel."

"I know—"

"Mabel, he could be acting sad on purpose—"

"I know he could, I know, I KNOW!" Mabel let out all her accumulated Bill-induced frustration in a scream that startled several birds out of a nearby tree. She jumped furiously on the clump of grass. "He probably thinks I'm a big soft sucker! He's the worst and I hate him so much!"

"YES!" Dipper aimed a kick at the grass clump. "He's the worst ever! It's his fault we're even having this argument!"

"This summer was supposed to be different!"

"No apocalypses, no murder attempts, and no demon triangles!"

"No triangles at ALL! I don't even like geometry!"

When they'd collaboratively destroyed the grass clump, they fell silent, breathing heavily, staring at the upturned dirt. "I needed that," Mabel said. After a moment, she knelt down and tried to set the mangled grass back upright. The grass did nothing to deserve this.

Dipper leaned against a tree. "So. Are we giving up on the hair stuff?"

Mabel carefully patted a mound of dirt around what was left of the base of the grass. "I... still wanna go through with it."

Dipper had used up all his frustration on the grass. He sighed. "If you're gonna get that stuff for Bill no matter what I say, then... why are you trying to talk me into it?"

"Because I'm not going to do it. Not unless you agree."

"You... what?"

"Dipper, I feel like this is the right thing to do—but that's why I need to know what you think. The last time we didn't talk things out, the world almost ended! We always make better decisions together than we do apart. If I can't say anything that makes you think it's worth the risk, then—I'll give up. I'll tell Bill we couldn't get the stuff, and offer to get him a discount wig after Summerween, and... that's it." Mabel shrugged. "I'm scared too. I keep wondering stuff like 'what if he gives himself leg stilts and climbs out the chimney? What if he grows seven fingers and can finally overpower Ford?' But that's stupid."

She looked up at Dipper. "I want to make sure that if we give up, it's because there really is a danger. I don't want to refuse to help somebody suffering just because we're scared of him."

Dipper slid down to sit on the grass and watch Mabel give the grass clump first aid. Once Mabel was satisfied enough to sit back and wipe her hands off on her skirt, Dipper said, "Yeah. I am scared of him. He's tricked me with some misleading wording before, and I don't want it to happen again. I want to say I'm just being logical, but... right now, maybe I'm doing more feeling than thinking, too." He shrugged. "The truth is, I can't think of anything he could do with the hair growth formula that isn't so ridiculous, even I don't believe it's possible."

Mabel nodded. "Are you scared enough to say 'no'? If you are, we'll quit."

"No, I'm not." Dipper heaved a sigh. "I guess... let's do it. But I want to be as careful as possible. We'll get just barely enough to regrow his hair, one of us will apply the formula so he can't misuse it—"

"I can do that," Mabel said. "I've already slathered like a whole bucket of yellow paint on his face."

"Okay. And I'll watch the whole time as backup, in case he tries anything."

"Barty can watch from the vents as the backup-backup, too!"

"Good idea."

"Boom! Flawless plan!" Mabel grinned. "Now let's go see Pacifica!"

####

The address Pacifica had given them led to a small fenced-in pasture outside town.

Over the main gate was a sign that read "Platinum Alpaca Estates".

In the pasture, a half dozen pink-collar-wearing alpacas placidly grazed.

And standing in front of it all—wearing immaculately tailored lavender overalls, a set of white rhinestone-studded boots and cowboy hat, and a nervous smile—was Pacifica.

Dipper and Mabel gaped.

Dipper said, "What the— What is—"

"Pacifica what."

Pacifica held up her hands. "Okay wait, just let me explain! After my family lost our mansion last year, I could only keep one horse? Which was devastating! I needed to fill the void of hoofed mammals in my life somehow."

Mabel leaned over the fence. "So you got alpacas?"

"I was actually inspired by the llama sweater you gave me." Pacifica gave Mabel a small, crooked smile. "It reminded me that I've always secretly thought alpacas are cute, and I really like alpaca wool goods, so I thought... you know... what if I try it out?" She opened the gate, gesturing for the twins to follow her toward a small barn. "And I actually really love it! These are like, my babies. And I'm talking with some fashion brands about maybe selling them some luxury wool?"

She led them into the barn, and then into a small office being cooled by a window A/C unit. Several wool garments, protected in glass cases, were proudly displayed on the walls with labels underneath: "First Sweater", "First Scarf", "First Blanket"—

"Hey!" Mabel pointed at the familiar blanket, creamy white with the anti-Bill zodiac in ochre yellow. "That's the one I made! Did the yarn you sent me to make it come from your alpacas?"

"It did! You're the first person to make anything with their wool."

"Whoa."

"I actually want to use my symbol from the circle as our brand. I'm waiting to hear from my copyright lawyer about who I need to talk to for the rights to the image—if it's you or your great-uncle, or if it's still with the tribe that left the valley like a thousand years ago, or if it's public domain," Pacifica said. "It's a vague enough shape, I think it could look like either a llama or an alpaca, right?"

Mabel considered what Bill had said about Pacifica's symbol, considered the small alpaca herd visible through the office window, and said, "I have it on good authority that it's supposed to be an alpaca."

"So, wait," Dipper said. "What does this have to do with your modeling job?"

"The ranch isn't turning a profit yet. I'm still in talks with the brands that want our wool, and in the meantime I've got to hire more people to help. I don't know the hard stuff about taking care of alpacas, I just kind of brush their wool and make friends with them while my employees do the hard stuff."

Dipper snorted.

"Hey! I'm learning! But I've only been doing this a few months." Pacifica sank down into her desk chair, propping her chin in her hands. "Almost all my allowance and side gig income is going toward my alpacas. My parents don't want to invest in my startup!" She pouted. "They said if I want to act like a rancher instead of a socialite, it'll be on my own dime."

"So that's why you're working two summer jobs?" Dipper said. "Oh, man. I should have known something was up. I thought it was weird when you said your parents wouldn't pay for a spring and summer wardrobe."

"Yeah, I spent my spring wardrobe budget on this barn," Pacifica said. "I figure I'm investing in my future wardrobe, you know?"

Mabel planted her hands on Pacifica's desk. "Pacifica, I can see how important this is. I've run a business myself—I appreciate the pressure you're under. But, how about this: we could help each other! If you get us a tiiiny bit of that formula, I'll come over once a week for the rest of summer to help out with your alpacas. For free!"

Pacifica blinked. "What?"

"And that way, even if you do get in trouble and lose your Hairy Fairy job, you'll still have someone to help you out!"

Dipper's eyes widened. "Um—Pacifica, could you give us a moment?" He grabbed Mabel's elbow and tugged her out of the office.

"What is it?"

Dipper whispered, "Are you sure you wanna make that kind of commitment for the rest of summer? For Bill's sake?"

"Dipperrr, it's like working in a petting zoo!" She gestured toward the office window. "Look at how soft they are!"

"Oh, boy."

"And maybe I could get some luxury alpaca wool! I'm gonna have the fanciest sweaters."

Dipper grimaced, but decided Mabel would probably have looked for an excuse to spend time around the alpacas regardless of the situation. "Okay. Have at her." He nodded back toward the office.

When Mabel and Dipper came back in, Pacifica was sitting up straighter, hands laced on her desk, a miniature businesswoman entertaining a business proposal. "I appreciate the offer," Pacifica said. "But I don't think a few hours of labor a week balance out the profits I could make at my modeling job. It just doesn't make financial sense. I'm sorry, Mabel. I've got to think of my alpacas."

"I understand. But—I've got to think of my not-friend. If you could just see..." She trailed off as a thought occurred to her. "Dipper! Let me get in your backpack."

"Um, okay—?"

Mabel rummaged around in the main pouch. "I'm sure we left it... Ha!" She slapped down a ziplock bag containing the lock of Bill's hair that they'd collected to make his poppet. "This... is the person I'm trying to help." She crossed her arms triumphantly. "Okay, not the person, but it's his hair anyway."

Pacifica's brows shot up. "Oh, wow." She opened the bag and carefully extracted a few strands to examine. "This is the most golden golden hair I've ever seen. And look at it. Little oily, could use a good conditioner, damaged roots, but otherwise amazing health, no split ends..." Pacifica looked at Mabel, pointed at the baggie, and asked, "Virgin?"

Mabel laughed nervously. "I have no idea and I never ever want to find out."

"No! I mean is this the natural color and texture, or has it been treated?"

"Oh. I'm pretty sure it just came like that?" She looked at Dipper.

Dipper shrugged. "I mean, probably? I doubt he hit up a salon before coming to the Mystery Shack."

"And... you say he had a bad haircut?" Pacifica asked. "What does he look like now?"

Gently, Mabel said, "Bald."

Pacifica let out the softest gasp. "Okay. I get it. I'll help. And also send over a couple of conditioner samplers, because whoever your friend is, he has not been taking care of his hair lately. Natural beauty can only carry him so far. I'll have the conditioners overnighted to your shack."

"Great!" A wide smile broke out across Mabel's face. "Thank you so much, Pacifica! And the formula, too?"

"Actually, I can give you that right now." Pacifica pulled a small green Hairy Fairy bottle from one of her overall pockets.

Mabel gasped in delight. Dipper said, "Wait, you had that the whole time?"

"When we escaped the country club, I accidentally still had the bottle we'd used for the live demonstration in my pocket," Pacifica said. "I was going to replace it tomorrow morning before anyone goes looking for it; I'll just give you guys a few drops and make up the difference with a little alpaca shampoo. Hopefully, nobody will notice the difference."

Mabel said, "Pacifica, you're the best!"

"I know." Pacifica leaned across the desk to put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "Just promise me one thing."

"Sure! What?"

"I won't be able to do this a second time," Pacifica said. "So you'd better make sure your friend takes care of his hair."

####

Bill squinted at the chocolate chip-sized dollop of lotion at the bottom of the quart-sized plastic food container. "Gotta hand it to you, Shooting Star. This is the funniest way you could have transported the formula."

"We forgot to bring anything to put it in." Mabel snapped on a pair of yellow dish gloves and pointed at the kitchen floor. "Okay! Sit down so I can reach and let me work my magic."

"What, don't think I can handle it myself?" But he sat down even as he protested. He'd already removed his cardboard triangle helmet—which now sat, battered and bent, on the kitchen table—and had washed off his paint/makeup as well as he could without requesting shower access.

Mabels scooped the dollop of lotion onto one gloved finger, then massaged it across her fingertips. "I'm your official makeup artist now! I've gotta do it. Besides, you missed a chunk of hair when you were removing it, you'd probably miss a chunk when you were putting it back on."

"Eh, fair enough. Okay kid, do your worst."

As Mabel coated Bill's scalp, the chemical burns he'd given himself while removing his hair vanished, replaced with new healthy skin—and Dipper quietly lamented, once again, that this stuff was being marketed to grow hair and not regrow limbs. He'd have to document it thoroughly in his journal later.

Dipper was sitting at the bottom of the attic stairs, watching the proceedings in the kitchen, armed with Mabel's grappling gun to use as a projectile weapon if Bill dared try anything. But Bill just sat there, legs crossed with his feet on his thighs and his hands palm-up on his knees like he was meditating, not even turning his head as Mabel worked.

Mabel jerked her hands back in surprise as a fresh layer of golden hair sprang out of Bill's scalp—then quickly reached in again, massaging the lotion into all the strands and coaxing them out until they were all around shoulder length, the same as they'd started. "There! Ta-da! Good as new!"

As the hair crawled down Bill's temples, tickled his ears, brushed his cheeks, he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could and clenched his jaw, straining hard to keep from moving. His open hands curled into fists. Dipper raised the grappling hook. But when Bill turned to face Mabel, he was all grins again, and if Dipper hadn't known to look for it he wouldn't have noticed the anxious tic in Bill's eyebrow. "Well? How do I look?"

"Gorgeous! If the real Goldilocks saw you, she'd have to change her name in shame."

"Ha! That's what I like to hear!" Bill un-pretzeled his legs and stood up. "And you did it without giving me any spare eyebrows, too." So he did know about the side-effects.

"Oh, pfff, yeah, I'm not lowering my guard around that stuff again. The first time I opened a bottle, I got some on me and grew an extra hand!"

"No! Really?" Bill gave Mabel's gloved hands a skeptical look. "Where's it now?"

"I donated it to the Hand Witch."

"Ahh, pity. You could've had some fun with your temporary crown."

"'Crown'?"

"Most fingers in the household?"

Mabel's eyes bugged out, and then a manic smile took over her face, as if her brain had just been flooded with more glee than her face could process. She yanked off the gloves, hastily rubbed them on her left wrist, and shouted, "GRUNKLE FOOORD!" She sprinted through the entryway and took the turn down the hallway so fast she ran a couple steps up on the wall before landing back on the floor. "Grunkle Ford, guess what!"

Dipper almost followed her—until he caught Bill moving in the corner of his eye, bending down to pick up the discarded gloves. Dipper raised the grappling hook. What was Bill planning to do with them—use the remainder to mutate himself? Save them to use later? Eat them—?

Bill dropped the gloves in the plastic container the lotion had come in, sealed the lid, and dropped them in the kitchen waste bin. Under his breath, he muttered, "The last thing I need is the pig sniffing this and growing an extra snout." He paused. "Wait. That would be funny."

From the other side of the house, Ford's voice bellowed, "BILL!"

Bill's head snapped around to face the kitchen doorway—and for the first time he glanced at Dipper sitting on the stairs. "Hey. What do you bet he didn't even let Mabel explain before deciding this is my fault?"

"Uh..."

Mabel and Ford's approach could be tracked through Mabel's hasty explanation: "Grunkle Ford, it's just a prank! I'm okay, see? I'm gonna donate Mirhanda to the Hand Witch, it'll be fine—"

The moment Ford saw Bill, he made a beeline for him and seized him by his t-shirt collar. "What did you do to her?! Answer me, Cipher!"

"I didn't! I'm innocent! I plea the fifth! I've been falsely accused! I was framed! Mercy!" The sincerity of his pleas was somewhat undermined by the fact that he couldn't stop laughing the whole time Ford was trying to menace him. His too-wide gleeful smile looked a lot like Mabel's.

####

"Okay, Pacifica," the director said. "This commercial is for the teen market, so we want you to talk to the camera like you're talking to your peers, all right? And by that, I don't mean your real peers. I mean the slightly less rich girls who would do anything you asked to be considered one of your peers."

"Don't worry, I've got this," Pacifica said. She positioned herself on her stool, hands laced over her knees, and said, "Ready when you are."

"And... action!"

Pacifica gave the camera her best haughty-but-not-too-haughty look, the one that said maybe if you say something interesting to me I'll double your social standing for fun, and launched into her memorized lines: "Hey, I'm Pacifica Northwest—you all know me, most of you probably want to be me. Listen, girls: have you ever tried to go short and it just didn't work out? Maybe that pixie cut makes your ears look weird, maybe those bangs are not for you. If you wish you looked as great as me, I have just the thing for you..."

Everything continued as normal, until Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula was applied to her hair... and nothing happened. Pacifica stumbled over a word, and then kept going, as if maybe no one would notice if she didn't draw attention to it. As she was wrapping up her monologue, her hair finally... slowly started growing... and stopped at half its usual length. Pacifica bit her lip.

"Pacifica!"

She winced and turned toward her boss, feigning a look of innocent surprise. "Yes, Mr. Haroldson?"

"What did you put in your hair! You know you're not supposed to have any product in your hair on shoot days!"

"Nothinggg! I've been following my hair care instructions perfectly! And I had it rinsed just before the shoot like always!"

"Well—what's the problem, then?" Mr. Haroldson turned to the hazmat-suited hairdresser holding the formula bottle.

"I don't know." He took off his mask. "This is the same sample bottle we used at the country club demonstration, it should be fine..." He took a sniff of it, and grimaced. "What...? That's not our usual fragrance, is it?" Mr. Haroldson leaned over to sniff as well.

She'd been found out. She was doomed. Her poker face collapsed like a house of cards. "Okay fine I took a few drops for a friend and maybe replaced it with a little bit of shampoo, so what!" She pointed at Mr. Haroldson. "What are you gonna do about it, huh? Fire me? Go ahead, see if I care! I can get a million better modeling jobs in a week!"

Mr. Haroldson's expression darkened in rage—and then he said, "Pacifica, you're a genius!"

"Huh?"

"Watering it down! Of course! We can sell unaltered bottles to hook new customers and then stretch out our supply by giving repeat customers the weak stuff—we'll tell them that it's less effective if they're overusing it! We can keep up that scam for years, it's not like the FDA is regulating this stuff! Why, we could even make a whole new product!" He turned to wave at an assistant, "Call R&D, get R&D on the phone—we'll make a formula designed to grow short hair. We can call it... Pixie Dust Pixie Cuts! It's all thanks to you, Pacifica!" He beamed at her.

She beamed back.

He said, "You're not getting credit or a raise though."

"Pshhh, obviously. I know how this industry works."

"All right, back to work." He pointed at the director. "Crack open a new bottle and let's wrap this up ASAP. I've got to schedule some meetings about the new product line."

####

"Well, he didn't grow himself eight arms," Dipper said, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He was going over a map of Gravity Falls he'd taken from the gift shop, circling locations of potential paranormal activity he wanted to investigate over the summer. Bill-tainted places got an additional triangle. "And I took out the kitchen trash to make sure Bill couldn't go back for the formula later. I guess he wasn't up to anything after all." He paused. "... Unless he wanted the formula in our trash, and now it's multiplying the garbage or getting picked up by some sleeper agent outside the shack—"

"Stooop," Mabel said. She was carefully coloring in a green bottle of Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula in Dipper's journal; Dipper had started entrusting his journal's art duties to Mabel whenever they went on a joint investigation. "We can't start thinking like that! Remember, our therapist told us that paranoia is a natural coping mechanism for dealing with scary situations, but trusting people is healthy and a sign of healing!" She set down the journal so she could emphasize the word "healing" with jazz hands.

"I think that's supposed to apply to trusting normal people."

"Yeah, but still." The journal flipped a few pages as she picked it back up, and her eyes were caught by scribbles in bright highlighter yellow. "Hey, what's this new stuff? Did you make up a secret code to keep notes in? Can I learn?"

"Ugh. No, Bill did that. I left my journal out and he wrote a bunch of secret messages. It's probably telling me how I'm going to die or the names of all the girls who will reject me or something."

"Pff, probably. Have you shown Grunkle Ford? Maybe he knows it."

"Not yet. He's been too busy."

"Right..." And now, she was sure, he was probably mad at her personally for worrying him with the hand prank.

Mabel flipped through a few more pages, looking at the bright yellow notes. She glanced toward the window, scanning the trees outside. She sighed and got up, leaving Dipper's journal on her bed.

"What's up?"

"Now you've got me worrying about sleeper agents. I'm gonna make sure the gloves are still in the trash."

When she'd confirmed all the garbage was right where it was supposed to be and came back in the shack, she spotted Bill in the living room. He was scrunched up on one side of the sofa as close to the doorway as he could get, watching TV. He glanced over as she shut the front door and flashed a grin. "Hey, Shooting Star. What're you up to?"

Ah, great. They were on casual chit-chat terms now. She edged toward the doorway but stayed outside the living room—sorry, not staying long—and said, "Oh, you know, just—looking at... the outdoors." Before he could dig further, she changed the topic. "So! How's that hair working out for you?"

"Ah." His smile wilted and his glance drifted back toward the TV. (He seemed to be watching the local news. Mabel decided he must've been really bored.) "Well, hair's still the worst thing that's ever grown on me and I still see a human in the mirror—but at least it's a human with a vaguely triangular silhouette. I can live with being back where I started."

"Sorry we couldn't come up with a real solution." As glad as she was to finish her obligation to Bill, she hated that all her efforts hadn't even really helped. Some problem-solver she was.

"Yeah, well. You can't build a pyramid out of meat. You did the best you could." Bill turned to fully face Mabel. "But, hey—listen." He had one eye squeezed shut but the other one stared her down with the intensity of a spotlight, paralyzing her in place. "Even if it's not perfect, I appreciate the effort you put in."

"Hey, it's no big deal. Crafts are my whole thing! It was kinda fun."

"No, I'm serious," Bill said. "I know I'm the town bogeyman, and everyone's only putting up with me until they find the easiest way to obliterate me. But you did a lot more than just 'put up with me.' And, well—don't tell the others I said this," he rolled his eye toward the hall to the rest of the house, and lowered his voice, "but... it's been a long time since anybody's treated me with a little kindness. Longer than you can imagine. I think I'd forgotten what it feels like. Even if I don't have much time left to enjoy it—I'm grateful for the reminder, kid."

Mabel's eyes widened. "Bill, that..." A lump formed in her throat. How long had it been? As big a jerk as he was—centuries? Millennia?

She darted into the living room, squeezed Bill in a hug before he could protest, and then bolted up the stairs two at a time.

And Bill thought to himself, got her.

Humans were so easy. Once you figured out what they wanted to believe in, you could make them do anything you wanted.

Mabel wanted to believe that everyone everywhere yearned to be friends with everyone else, and that the only thing holding them back was the defensive walls they built around their emotions. Mabel wanted to see people's walls come down. Mabel wanted every social problem to be simple enough that even a child could solve it if they were earnest and honest enough.

Mabel shouldn't have let Bill watch Color Critters. It told him too much about the kind of world she idealized. He had that kid completely figured out—

There was a loud pounding as Mabel leaped back down the stairs three at a time. "On your feet!" She grabbed Bill's hands and tugged him off the sofa, then wrapped a measuring tape around his hips.

He twisted around in bewilderment as she circled him, now measuring his chest. "What—?"

"Face forward! Arms out from your sides!" She measured his shoulder span, then grabbed one arm to measure the length. "I'll be back later. I've got work to do. Do not come upstairs!"

Bill leaned out the doorway to watch her bunny-hop back up to the attic.

Okay, he had that kid mostly figured out.

Well, the odd quirks just made her a little more interesting than the average human. The important thing was that, whether she knew it or not, she wanted Bill to be her friend. She wanted to be the horse girl who tamed the hostile bronco, the beauty who saved the beast. She wanted monsters to swear their loyalty to cute spunky protagonists, and she thought she was a protagonist.

The "reformed bad boy" was outside of the usual characters he played—he was better as the ancient teacher, the playful trickster, the divine messenger—but it was an easy enough role, and it gave him plenty of room to misbehave while staying in character. It's so hard to change my old ways—but maybe it would be easier if you give me another chance, if you help me, if you do this one little thing for me...

There was a fun little quirk of human psychology that was so well-known they'd even given their own name to it: the Foot-In-The-Door Technique. Once you get a human to do you one small, tiny little favor, they'll be more likely to do you another, bigger favor later. Borrow a dollar today and they'll be more likely to let you borrow a hundred dollars next week. Ask them to drive you to the auto shop and you'll have a better chance of asking them to help you move. Get them to bring you a little hair solution, and... well, Bill would just have to wait and see what he wanted next.

As long as everything Bill asked for was harmless, there was nothing the warier members of the household could do to intervene without making themselves look like the unreasonable ones. And by the time Bill started asking for anything dangerous, he'd have Mabel eating out of the palm of his hand, and she'd have no idea until it was too late that she didn't mean a thing to him—

####

Bill stared dumbly in the mirror at the yellow yarn hoodie. "H—Did you just make this?" With his arms at his sides, from the shoulders down, it looked like a decapitated triangle. 

"I used velvet yarn for your brick pattern," Mabel said. "It makes the lines stand out more! And I cut one of Dipper's bow ties in half to make the hood's drawstring so you can tie it into a bow!"

Wordlessly, Bill tied the bow—it hung in the center of his chest—and then he pulled the hood on, tugging it low over his forehead, completing the triangle. Mabel had put an eye on the hood. She'd even remembered Bill's eyelashes.

"I thought, hey—if the mask was too much, and the hair is too little, maybe a hoodie's just right," Mabel said. "I don't usually make sweaters for people—sweater curse, blarrr, you know—but, this one time, I thought it was important." She gave Bill a nervous smile. "So... what do you think? Do you like it?"

Bill stared at his reflection. It was hideous, misshapen, and alien, but it was almost himself.

He looked at Mabel. He got down on his knees. He put a hand on her shoulder. He said, "I will kill one enemy of yours, for free, no questions asked, in any way you want."

Mabel blinked. "Please don't do that."

"When I take over the universe I'm giving you your own galaxy."

"I don't—I don't want a galaxy. What would I do with a whole galaxy?"

"A solar system. A planet? Everyone wants their own planet!"

Mabel shook her head.

"Then what do you want?" What the heck do human children like. "Can I show you a magic trick?"

Mabel considered that.

####

"Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford!" Mabel ran into the kitchen, pushing Waddles in front of her, breathless with excitement. "Look what I can do!" She held a clear plastic spoon at arm's length, peered through it at Waddles like it was a magnifying glass, and slowly lifted the spoon up. Waddles floated up into the air as well. He snorted in mild bafflement.

Stan's jaw dropped. Ford said, "Ohhh, boy."

Mabel beamed at them both.

####

(This chapter isn't quite as edited as I usually do, because I've been sick this past week but wanted to get it out anyway. Apologies for that and I'd appreciate if you noticed any typos or disjointed sentences! And I'd doubly appreciate any nice comments, I've been having a hell of a week.)

[waterfae]

A Good Pillow [Part 2]

Summary: A glimpse of your budding friendship with Ominis and your growing feelings after the events in the Scriptorium.

Pairings: Ominis Gaunt x Reader, Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mild language, angst, comfort, fluff, friends-to-lovers, unhinged Slytherins, complicated relationships, house-neutral reader, no use of Y/N, no beta

Word Count: 1.3+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

|| General Masterlist || Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist ||

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been spending a lot more time with Ominis Gaunt these days.” You turned your attention towards Natty after she made the remark and said nothing in response. There was no need for one; her statement was an undeniable truth. As the school year progressed, you indeed had been spending an increasing amount of time with Ominis – much to the concern of some, which was baffling; you had yet to meet a finer gentleman!

“Ominis Gaunt?” Poppy chimed, suddenly appearing and occupying the empty seat beside you, “Hello girls.” She added quickly with nods to the both of you, “Are we talking about Ominis? Do you know him?”

You smiled brightly at the Huffplepuff in greeting and took a swig of butterbeer before bringing the glass back down onto the table with a light thud, licking away the foam from your lips that the drink had left behind.

“You could say that.” You answered with a slight warmth rising to your cheeks at the thought of him, “He really is quite kind and a very good, dependable friend once you get to know him better.”

“You should have invited him then!” Poppy piped as her own glass of butterbeer arrived and was placed in front of her. You smiled, glad to know there was someone within your growing group of friends that was open to having Ominis around. Natty, however, continued to look warily.

“I’d still be cautious if I were you.” Her voice lowered to a whisper and she bent forward towards the center of the table so only the three of you could hear, “I heard he’s interested in dark magic.”

You let out a snort and straightened yourself back up in your seat before taking another sip of your drink. Poppy did the same, tutting and waving her finger, “I’m disappointed in you, Natty. Why would you entertain such gossip?”

“Amit and Everett were talking about it just the other day!” Natty explained, “Many others say it too. He is a descendant of Salazar Slytherin after all.” She turned to you and added, “You might have fared better sticking with Sebastian. He may be a bit of a troublemaker at times, but you don’t hear anything about him getting mixed up with the dark arts.”

No longer able to hold back after her last few words, you let out an obnoxiously loud laugh as the two other girls looked on questioningly.

Oh, if she only knew.

The remainder of the Hogsmeade trip was spent arm-in-arm with your two friends; happily strolling along the cobblestone streets, appreciating your time out of the castle, listening to a street musician, and hopping from Zonko’s to Honeydukes whilst sampling treats and chatting with other familiar faces that you happened to encounter. By the time you stepped back onto the grounds, the sun had already set, the temperature had grown more chilly, and some of the students were slowly inching their way back towards the castle. You spotted a familiar figure sitting upon one of the benches near the entrance and – once you were near enough – gently pulled away from your companions with a cordial goodnight and jogged over to the young man.

“Ominis.” You took the seat beside him, wrapping your cloak tighter around yourself as you did so, “What are you still doing out here by yourself? It’s cold.”

He turned to the direction of your voice with a smile, “Waiting for you.”

“Oh, Ominis.” You felt your cheeks grow warm for the second time that day, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I am well aware of that; I simply wanted to.” He scooted closer as you pushed a small package into his hands, “What’s this?”

“Sugar quills.” You replied beaming, “Thought I’d replenish your supply since I ate the last one when you helped me with my essay the other day.”

Ominis’s smile widened as he pocketed the gift into his robes and recalled that particular session in the library.

“Try this one.” Ominis returned to his seat bedside you and placed a book down on the table.

You were absentmindedly sucking on the sugar quill he had offered earlier, your chin supported by your free hand and eyes drowsily fixed upon a random portrait. A sigh escaped from your lips when you felt him push the book towards you.

“I am sick of this Potions essay. My brain feels like mush!”

He chuckled, “Come now. You’ve almost completed it.”

You pouted, opening the book that had been placed before you to a random page. Ominis pulled his chair closer, brushing against you in the process, and flipped through the pages using his wand, mumbling about how he had noticed something previously that might be useful. You left him to his task, grateful for the assistance, but exhausted having spent the last few days researching and attempting to complete the accursed essay.

Ominis continued to urge you on, stating that you only had a few more inches of parchment to go and that today was going to be the day you finished. He would make sure of it. And so he eagerly poured over the texts of the book he had picked out for you while you moved onto another set that you had been combing through earlier.

It did not take long for your eyelids to fall closed. Despite the hands you had placed at your chin for support – sugar quill long forgotten – your head had already been sleepily bobbing up and down before you even began to read.

Ominis could feel the movement beside him; your body slowly swaying where you sat, bumping your shoulder into his repeatedly. This tore his attention away from the book and back onto you. Quickly, he dropped his wand, anticipating the next motion as your head finally slipped from your hands. He reached out with his own, catching you before your head could land harshly against the wooden table.

He let out a sigh, relieved that he had been able to catch you in time and equally surprised that none of it had woken you up.

“You really must be tired then.” He whispered, thumb gently caressing the side of your cheek that had fallen into his hand.

Instead of waking you, he gently adjusted himself and guided your head towards his shoulder; allowing you to continue with your sleep while he quietly recited notes and page numbers for his enchanted quill to jot down.

A gust of chill air quickly shook Ominis out of his reverie and he felt you shiver beside him.

“We should get you inside.” He stood up and offered you a hand, his other brandishing his wand.

You accepted it and allowed him to lead you towards the castle, “Probably for the best.”

“Shall I walk with you to your common room?” He asked as the pair of you walked through the doors.

You smiled brightly, happy to take any chance you could to spend more time with him, “That would be lovely.”

He gave your hand a quick squeeze and began your trip through the various corridors and stairs. As you made your way, you chatted about your afternoon: he asked how your Hogsmeade trip went, you in turn asked what he had done opting to stay within the castle, he spoke of Sebastian's latest musings, you told him of Garreth’s antics that nearly got him kicked out of Honeydukes. The number of students you passed dwindled and the halls grew quiet as you neared your house.

“Here we are.” He released your hand upon reaching the entrance, turned towards you and softly said, “Good night.”

A pause.

You stared at him for a moment.

“Good night.”

Another pause.

He seemed to linger.

“Sleep well.”

You blushed.

“Perhaps if I can find a good enough pillow.”

He scoffed.

“Good luck with that.”

You shuffled your feet.

He shoved his hands into his pockets.

Another moment of silence passed.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Ominis.” You said, breaking through the quiet, and quickly turned on your heel to disappear into your common room – heat rising to your face.

“Right.” He slumped as he sensed you go, “Tomorrow.”

Dissatisfied with the clumsy conclusion to the evening, he mentally kicked himself as he walked off to return to his own common room.

a/n: I initially intended for this to only be a one-shot, but these two wouldn't leave me alone! So here we are. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡ 

After all this time - while reformatting and cross-posting this fic to tumblr - I just realized that even though I did say reader is house-neutral, the way things are written makes it clear that she is not in Slytherin. I apologize! I hope you are able to look past this transgression.

[ghostlymarauder]

This is, again, a rant about the Grishaverse, on this occasion, about things that annoy me, so if you disagree, you're correct, too.

Let me preface this by saying: I love the books! I devoured the original trilogy, and I'm currently reading the SOC duology. However, there's things that make me want to kill someone:

1. Let's start off with one of the most important: In Russian (one of the base language for Ravkan), Grisha is basically Greg. Yes, it also means "watchful" BUT my problem is that if you're using a language as the base for another language, you shouldn't use something as common as "Greg" to be the name of your supernatural/magical/whatever-the-hell-Grisha-are species.

2. Tailors. And you might ask: what's the problem with Tailors? Well, technically, none. The problem is that it is stated that ALL the Corporalki are capable of using tailoring. FURTHERMORE, NINA ZENIK HAS A SIDE HUSTLE AS A TAILOR. So, why was Genya made fun of? Because if I remember correctly, the Grisha saw her as "useless"... But the Corporalki are capable of being Tailors, too? I don't, it's just confusing.

3. And, speaking of confusing things: the plurals and singulars of the Grisha orders... What do you mean a group of Heartrenders is a group of Corporalki, BUT ONE HEARTRENDER IS A CORPORALNIK??? it's unnecessarily complicated, and I refuse to discuss it.

4. Another thing that bothers me to unexplainable levels is the Squallers' trick at the end of Ruin and Rising... Like, you're telling me Squallers are capable of bending sound, that they know they're capable of bending sound, but no one ever told the Darkling about it. NOT ONLY THAT. You're telling me that in 400 YEARS the Darkling never learned that ability? Why wasn't it used before? No, it was kept for Sankta Alina.

5. I already talked about this in another post, so I'm not going in too much depth: Alina losing her powers at the end of Ruin and Rising is unnecessary and unfair.

6. Keeping it on the topic of Alina... Why did Mal survive? It would've been so interesting to see Alina lose Mal, keep her powers, and be sent in the same path as the Darkling. It would've been so interesting to see if she would become the same as Alekzander or not. Instead, the tracker lives and she gets happily ever after?????

7. What language do they speak in Ravka? Because it's technically Ravkan, but on multiple occasions, the distinction of a single word said in Ravkan is made, meaning they have to speak something else most of the time... But what? Is it English?

8. I am become a blade. No need to explain that one.

9. I'm still reading SOC, so I'll perhaps have another opinion once I read the King of Scars duology, but why the fuck does Zoya become all-powerful (and I mean that literally, she all Etherealki types in one, and I'm pretty sure she also develops Corporalki abilities) yet Alina loses her powers? I'm offended by that, and it's coming from someone who LOVES Zoya's character.

10. The maps and geography of the Grishaverse. I don't think explanation is truly needed, just look at the maps and tell me there isn't something weird.

I'll probably keep adding to this in the future, but if you want to add something that annoys you or debate one of my points, that's completely valid, too!

[pareidoliaonthemove]

What Are Little Girls Made Of

“How far to the lifesigns, Thunderbird Five?”

Virgil stopped the rest behind the ‘mini-Mole’, as he waited for his older brother to respond.

“About twenty meters, Two. You need to veer five degrees right, and one degree down. That will have you breaking through their air pocket at the corner diagonally opposite from their position.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. Five degrees right one, one degree down. Moving out.”

Virgil keyed in the course change on his wrist controller, and activated the mini-Mole. With a high pitched squeal, the small ROV again started drilling into the concrete and rebar of the collapsed building. It captured all the detritus, mixed it with a quick setting binding agent, and extruded it against the ‘walls’ of its tunnel, ensuring that the resulting space wasn’t going to collapse immediately behind it.

Virgil eyed his wrist controller as he crawled after the machine. Time was still of the essence in this type of rescue. They hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly why the commercial complex had collapsed, and that made Virgil very unhappy.

In front of him, the mini-Mole chirruped, slowed its pace and drill, and pulled forward to show a hole in the ‘wall’ facing a void. Virgil activated his passive line to John, then crawled up to the entryway and cautiously poked his head through. “International Rescue. Is anybody here?”

Stupid question, he knew there were two human life-signs in this space, but the enquiry served multiple purposes. Firstly, it identified him, and stopped anyone from trying to brain him with a rock – it had happened. Trapped people panicked, and if they had fears about running out of oxygen, another person in ‘their’ space, breathing ‘their’ air was a threat that had to be ‘dealt’ with.

Secondly, it told him if the lifesigns were conscious. No conscious victim could resist responding to the magic words...

“International Rescue!”

And there it was. One of the two lifesigns was currently bouncing towards him, a little girl about seven years of age, rushing across the space, her pigtails streaming behind her, pink ribbons fluttering. Virgil watched carefully as he crawled into the space. She was moving freely, despite concrete dust liberally coating her body, and bloody red grazes on the sides of legs and palms of her hand. Her dress, once a pink frilly layered affair was now torn and lank.

She must have felt like a princess when she left her home this morning.

The little girl grabbed his hand and started trying to drag him back with her to the far corner. “You have to come, Mummy’s stuck! She can’t get out!”

“Judy! Calm.” The voice was laced with pain but firm and calming. Two conscious resucees. That was good.

Judy stopped her insistent dragging, but didn’t let go of Virgil’s hand. “Please, Mister International Rescue. My Mummy is stuck. Can you help her get out?”

Virgil smiled, it was a practised smile, confident and calm. “That’s why I’m here. Now, where is your mummy, and what is her name?”

A deep breath. “My Mummy’s name is Jennifer Robson. My name is Judy Robson. Mummy is over in that corner,” she pointed. “And her legs are caught under the roof. Mine were, too,” she added, “but I’m little so I managed to wiggle my way out. Mummy can’t.”

“Thank you, Judy. You’ve been very brave, and very helpful. Can you keep helping me by staying here, while I go and see what’s got your mummy stuck?”

A determined nod, but her fear was betrayed by small teeth gnawing at her lower lip and bright water gathering in her eyes.

Virgil smiled again, and lowered himself down beside her mother. “Mrs Robson?” he asked, it never hurt to check names with parents. Judy had spoken clearly, but a misunderstood name at a rescue site could have consequences later.

The woman smiled up at him from where she lay on her left side. “That’s right, please call me Jenny. It’ll save time.” A glance at her daughter. “It’s a bit more complicated than just being stuck. I think something’s gone through my left leg.” A frown. “My right leg is lying in front of the left, and I can move it freely, but…”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He pulled a device from the satchel he had been dragging under his chest, clipped to his harness. “This is a snake,” he showed Mrs Robson. “I’m going to slide it behind you, and it’ll let me see what’s holding you in place. Then I can come up with a plan to get you out.”

“That would be appreciated,” Jenny smiled.

Virgil eased his way behind her, and activated the snake, sending it slipping down next to her back, and relaying what it ‘saw’ to a little 2D screen on the control box.

He frowned at what he saw. A piece of rebar �� entirely too thin for what it was presumably doing, he noted absently – had been freed from it encasing concrete, and had stabbed through Jenny’s left calf. He sent the snake bobbing down, to examine beneath.

They were in luck, the rebar had only just broken the skin, and hadn’t pinned her to the slab below. One cut, a slight jacking of the slab above her, and Jenny could be pulled out.

He informed Jenny as much, and then paused. Judy was sitting cross legged where he had left her, her apparent calm betrayed by the clean furrows tear tracks had carved down the concrete dust coating her face. He couldn’t send the little girl up the tunnel on her own, there were too many side branches that had been carved to reach other victims of the collapse. He couldn’t take her himself, and leave Jenny alone. And they really couldn’t afford the time to have one of his brothers come down and collect Judy, but she was still only young, and he didn’t really want her to see the state her mother was in.

Jenny saw where he was looking, and smiled. “If you’re worried about upsetting her with blood, you shouldn’t. Your biggest problem will be keeping her out of the way to wrap up a wound. Little girls come in two flavours, precious princesses who kick up and fuss at the mere mention of the word ‘blood’, or perfect little ghouls, who delight in it, and must be shown any wound the instant they learn of it.” She raised her voice so her daughter could hear. “Judy wants to be a doctor when she grows up, she is very interested in first aid and how to treat injuries. Judy the Ghoul, we call her.”

Judy perked up. “Oh, does Mummy need first aid? Can I help? I know how to apply bandages! Please, can I help? I’ll be super helpful!”

Virgil glanced at her mother, who was all but laughing at his confusion. “Judy, tell Mister International Rescue how you treat someone with a stab wound.”

“First, never ever ever take the object out of the wound. Take a bandage, and make doughnut, like this,” she held up both hands to make an ‘O’ shape, “slide it over the foreign object, and then wrap other bandages around it to keep in place.”

Virgil nodded approvingly. “Very good. That’s absolutely correct. First I’m going to have to get your mom out, and then we can do the first aid together, okay?”

A determined nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then, let’s get cracking.” He turned to his satchel, and pulled out a jack, setting it up, again behind Jenny, and then pulling out a version of Mini-MAX. This one programmed for exactly this kind of scenario, and kitted out with a miniature version of his shoulder mounted laser.

Virgil always had trepidations about ‘his’ Mini-MAX. It had taken Brains a lot of trial and error to tone down MAX’s natural enthusiasm. That coupled with a high powered laser had had … interesting results. International Rescue’s high energy equipment testing protocols and test chamber had both needed serious overhauling.

As was his habit, Virgil held his breath as Mini-MAX attached the heat absorbing shield, and activated his laser. But the little robot did his job perfectly, flying back out to his ‘travel’ case, leaving Jenny with a half-inch of rebar sticking out of her leg.

Virgil again held his breath as the jack slowly, so slowly, eased upwards just enough for him to slide Jenny out without jostling the rebar, and, once she was clear, slowly easing the slab back down to its original position.

As Virgil turned his attention to his charge’s injury, he found the little girl, kneeling beside her mother, her face mere inches from the ground, as she examined the injury with a bright-eyed intensity that made him just a little bit uneasy.

Gently pulling the girl, back he helped her sterilise her hands, and they both made a ‘doughnut’ out of bandages, and while Judy held them in place, Virgil started the binding bandage. He then turned to give Jenny painkillers, while keeping an eye on Judy as she completed the binding.

Quickly assembling the hover stretcher from its folded up state in his satchel, Virgil explained his evacuation plan to his patient and ‘assistant’. Jenny was soon installed on the stretcher, and strapped firmly in place, while Judy was more loosely strapped to her right side, so she could ‘monitor’ her mother on their trip to the surface.

Bringing the mini-Mole around to face back up its tunnel, Virgil tethered the hover stretcher to its back, and sent the Mole, the stretcher and its occupants trundling back towards freedom. Quickly packing up his remaining equipment, Virgil started crawling after the Mole, quietly confirming with John the condition of his rescuees and confirming that there was appropriate resources waiting for them top side, and that there was no-one else to pull from the wreckage of the building.

The trip back up passed quicker than had the one down, with Judy chatting happily to her mother, and then relaying regular ‘updates’ back to Virgil. The dying rays of sunlight bathing the scenery in reds and golds seemed unnaturally bright to Virgil as he crawled out of the hole, accepting Gordon and Scott’s help to stand upright again, and pull off his helmet. His back cracking as he straightened, but he bit back the groan as he twisted. That was just a bit too ‘old man’.

Ambulance crews, already briefed by John as to Jenny’s condition, and treatment already provided, had shifted her from the IR stretcher to their own gurney, and Judy was standing, watching intently as they took her vital signs, and unworriedly alternating between talking over, and talking to the little girl.

A woman, dressed in the ambulance’s uniform, drew Jenny away, and briefly examined the grazes on her legs and hands, and Virgil was briefly concerned that he had missed something in his haste to free the mother. But as the woman realised Virgil was watching, she offered a smile, and a thumbs up; and Virgil relaxed.

Beside him, Gordon nudged his arm, pressed an object into Virgil’s hand. It was one of the buttons Virgil had had made up, a test run of item he wanted to propose to Scott for distribution to kids at Danger Zone. A small button with a pin back. In the centre was the IR logo, an around it, in – naturally – Thunderbird Two Green was the words “I Was Brave For International Rescue”.

Virgil frowned at Gordon. These weren’t supposed to be here, but Gordon just nodded to Judy. “She’s earned it. Scott’s busy, go on, Virg.”

Virgil walked over, and knelt down beside Judy. “I wanted to thank you, Judy. You were very brave and very helpful back there.” He held up the button to her. “You’ve earned this. Can I pin it to your dress?”

Judy’s eyes went wide as she saw the button, and she nodded. Virgil reached forward, and very carefully pinned it to the dress, probably a bit high, it was near her collarbone. But Judy stared down at it a moment, before launching herself at Virgil and nearly strangling him with a hug. “Thank you, Mister International Rescue. Thank you for helping me and my Mummy.”

Virgil cautiously returned the hug, “Thank you, Judy.” A shout from the nearby ambulance had Judy’s caretaker gently pulling her away from Virgil and leading her away. Judy bounded as she went, pigtails streaming behind her. Back to her mother.

Twenty Years Later

Virgil lay back, watching the flickering pattern of light tiles rush past over his head. Whatever drugs they had given him on the way to the hospital were working a treat, what had been a fiery burning pain was now a dull throb, annoying but he could live with it.

A new body joined the lineup alongside his gurney, and Virgil turned his attention to the newcomer. A woman, about thirty, her long dark hair was caught in a plait, a pink ribbon incongruously woven into the braid, and formed the tie, candy pink scrubs that stuck out like a beacon amid the soft blues and teals.

A photo ID card at the end of the lanyard bounced about as she ran, and Virgil couldn’t make out then name, but recognised from the colour stripe along the right edge that the woman was an Emergency Department Trauma Surgeon. Attached to the lanyard, near her collarbone, was a pin, and Virgil strained to see it. He frowned, and reached up a hand to tug on the lanyard so he could get a closer look at the pin.

A IR blue clad arm reached about and caught his hand. “Hey, Virg, no grabbing. Hands to yourself, even when drugged, bro.”

There was a laugh, and the woman pulled off the lanyard one handed, and held the pin for his inspection. It was an old button, faded from exposure to light, but Virgil instantly recognised it. Scott had quickly forbidden them when he had found out, but the IR logo in the centre, and the words, “I Was Brave For International Rescue” ran around the edge in Thunderbird Two Green was unmistakable.

A name came to him, an image of a cement dust covered little girl in torn pink dress and pigtails, peering in fascination at the rebar piercing her mother’s leg. “Judy the Ghoul,” he said, voice slurring.

Above him, Judy – Doctor Judy – laughed. “That’s me. I’m honoured you remembered me.”

Virgil lay back and closed his eyes. “Never forgot. Little girls are ghouls. Important lesson t’ learn.” He opened his eyes. “My little girls are even worse. Had’ta keep infirmary locked. Was tryin’ to play ‘doctor’.”

She laughed again, turning her attention to his lower body. Virgil really didn’t want to know what she was seeing. Feeling what had happened was bad enough. A thought. “Did y’ Mum keep th’ leg?”

“No,” was the absent reply. “Sepsis infection at the hospital meant she lost her leg, at the knee. She has a prosthesis; reckons it’s the best thing that ever happened to her. Says it reduced her footache by fifty percent.”

She turned back to Virgil. “But I’m afraid we’ll not be reducing your footache, Mr Tracy. But if you can be very brave and helpful, we’ll have you back rescuing little girls from collapsed buildings in no time.”

Virgil smiled, as half of the people surrounding him, including his brother, fell away, and he was propelled through double doors into the gleaming sterility of a surgical theater. “I look forward to it.”

Notes:

I have five nieces, aged between ten and two. Any bandages or bandaids must be immediately removed for them to inspect the damage. Ghouls. The lot of them. Unless it’s their blood!

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[waughymommy]

Once again this story was completely revised and edited by myself with the help of online tools to do so. I decided to take this road because finding someone to proofread it is really complicated and apparently my last story was pretty well-written. It is probably too far from being perfect but I promise that I try to improve my writing skills every day. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading.😘😘 Waughymommy

Another… night… Another workday.” Princess Luna said while she stretched walking to her bedroom preparing herself for the daily duties of an alicorn princess like her.

“Hello, sis. Everything ready for the night?” Princess Celestia said while she walked across the corridor to take a well-deserved rest after a long day of duties.

“You bet! The moon is raised and let me tell you that tonight’s stars are few of my best ones…” The dark blue alicorn said proudly.

“Great! Dreams realm patrol then?” Celestia asked.

“Dream realm patrol,” Luna affirmed. Soon both sisters said goodnight and left. Princess Luna, had, like every single night, to lay down on her bed while she used her special magic powers to patrol the dreams realm to find dangerous nightmares and help ponies with all their troubles and nighttime fears. After all, that was her main task as the princess of the night and it was pretty important to keep her subjects safe and sound. Sadly, this task was getting more and more boring with time. For some reason ponies were sleeping less, dreaming less and having more boring dreams each night.

“Time to work.” princess of the night after all. She had to find out something related to the sacred part of the day that she guarded, not just being the sidekick of the princess of the day. That'd be humiliating...

Luna thought that if she was going to change her way of working, she had to find out how and soon. She returned to her bedroom and turned on one of those new machines recently installed in the whole castle. Every worker there apparently has one. Those were called computers and were getting pretty popular in recent times. They could help the ponies without magic writing faster and better. It was possible to read books on it without visiting a library. But maybe most important, thanks to the technologies team of the Princess Celestia School for gifted unicorns, it was possible to navigate on a thing called Magic Network of Machines or MNM… Usually just called MagicNet to abbreviate. The same theology that connected the dreams or magic of unicorns from long distances was now able to transmit information through the air. Amazing, huh?

Princess Luna used then her magic to turn on and control the strange device. In the first weeks, it was hard to control, but with the time it was easier than levitating feathers in magic kindergarten. Luna entered in the MagicNet with the hope of finding a good way to make the nighttime job more interesting. At first, she was looking for recent researches about magic. There was a curious study about the effects of changing the horn’s shape in unicorn's magic powers. Suddenly, moving across different sites, she found something completely unexpected in one of the ads.

“Canterlot Legends? What is that?” Luna said to herself surprised when she found that screen with several shiny colors and a detailed description. “Create your own powerful pony and fight with your team against other players in tremendous battles. Completely free!” She read. Luna had heard about this too. Apparently, there was also some kind of games in this MagicNet. Like those arcade machines where you could beat your own score in silly games like jumping across lateral maps or eating small balls in a maze. In other circumstances, the princess of the night would be probably not even close to being interested in this foals' stuff. But the boredom was at an extreme level, there were still three hours before the sunrise, and she had to do something.

“Okay, let’s try out this thing.” She said to herself. Clicking on the start button quickly brought her to another screen where she could create her own pony character. Apparently, she was able to choose the whole appearance of the virtual creature. She wasn’t too creative and simply created a pony as close as possible to herself. Once that the character was completely customized, she was able to choose a class.

“Attack, defense, balanced, tank, health…” Princess Luna said as she tried to find the logic behind those words. She simply chose randomly the defense class and started to play. Her character appeared in the middle of a virtual battlefield and she had to move it and apparently attack other players tapping on them. Even if the game mechanics looked too simple, the screen was somehow full of numbers, bars, statistics and buttons to press. The princess though decided to ignore them and just continued attacking other players.

The low skill level of the newbie princess simply ended in an easy victory for the rival team. With the defeat letters on the screen, Princess Luna felt disappointed by the game, she was about to leave it. But before she could realize, another match loaded, and suddenly she defeated one character and another… And another one more. After five minutes, her team won the match, and before she could even realize that again… She was in another match… That night, without a doubt, the hours passed faster than ever.

[vivi-the-goblin]

Ok, so idea time. In D&D it's firmly established that Hags are girls. They primarily reproduce asexually and through rituals, making near clones of themselves, keeping that up. If the DO reproduce sexually it can end up as anything, but only girls ascend to haghood. The others stay as hagspawn, basically changelings. Now interestingly, Crawford has stated that in his home games he's run hags as male or female or neither regardless of apparent sex, because they're fey. If you combine those two facts, you get fascinating options. 1- It's entirely based on your body. This could give you a hagspawn trying to magically HRT in a way that arcane law accepts. 2- Being practically clones means that the original simply passed her preferred pronouns as well. If they're cis it's mere happenstance of the first one in the chain being that way. It's only by adding some mortals into the mix that things can get complicated. This could result in a family ignoring thier child's fear, thinking them safe from the local hags...only to find out they were secretly trans, and now have a hag with a personal vendetta against them. 3- The Sinister Sisterhood isn't just what the network of hags calls itself, it's basically an ancient fey contract that created them, and only accepts women. This could result in a hagspawn waking up one day as a hag, happy for the power but realizing they apparently have some stuff to unpack. It could also result in a hag reverting to a hagspawn, because they got too introspective and decided gender was bullshit. Conclusion- write an adventure about a trans hagspawn trying to take down the sinister sisterhood. Not because of the general cruelty and dedication to evil, but because if she can't get in she'll bring it to ruin. Ending with a new hag cackling off into the world, ready to spread evil and misfortune as her true self.

[supersmashreaderz]

Baking a Cake With The Smash Fighters(Part 2)

Smash Fighter x Reader

Part 3 Coming Soon!

Chrs: Peach, Bowser, Zelda, Sheik, Ness, Ganondorf, Marth, Roy, Pikachu and Pichu

Reader is GN!

Princess Peach:

Baking a cake with Princess Peach is like working alongside a master chef(practically the goddess of baking). She’s elegant, precise, and effortlessly graceful in the kitchen. Peach is always cheerful, offering you encouraging words as you work together. She has a knack for making even the most complicated steps seem easy. Peach shares little tips and tricks she’s learned over the years, making the experience fun and educational. Together, you create a perfectly sweet and beautifully decorated cake, with Peach adding a signature peach on top. At the end, she gives you a warm smile and says, “Thank you for helping me, this turned out beautifully!”

Bowser:

Unlike Princess Peach, Bowser’s approach to baking is loud, boisterous, and slightly chaotic. His massive claws aren’t exactly built for delicate work, so you often find yourself guiding him carefully. Despite his rough appearance, he’s surprisingly enthusiastic and eager to please, especially when it comes to impressing you. Bowser grumbles when things don’t go his way, but he quickly recovers, insisting that you’re doing great. He may add too much of something (like sugar), making the cake a bit unbalanced, but it’s still delicious. Bowser proudly presents the final result with a gruff smile, his cheeks slightly flushed as he says, “Told ya we’d make it awesome!”

Falco:

Baking with Falco feels like working with a co-pilot in the kitchen. He’s confident, a little cocky, but surprisingly skilled. He jokes and teases you throughout the process, acting like he’s the pro here, but there’s no denying he’s having fun. You’ll catch him sneaking tastes of the batter and pretending not to, but he’s quick to get things back on track when needed. Once the cake is in the oven, he leans back and casually says, “Told ya, nothing to it.” The end result is solid, and Falco looks smugly pleased, especially when you compliment his flying-themed cake decorations.

Zelda:

Baking with Princess Zelda is a calming and magical experience. She’s gentle and thoughtful, guiding you through each step with care. Zelda uses her magic to help speed up certain tasks, but she’s also deeply invested in the traditional process. Together, you create a cake that’s not only delicious but also beautifully decorated, with intricate designs made by Zelda’s careful hands. She smiles softly throughout, enjoying the peaceful time you spend together. When the cake is done, Zelda offers a soft compliment, “You did wonderfully. I hope we can bake together again.”

Sheik:

Baking with Sheik is unexpectedly efficient and smooth. Despite being more focused on combat and stealth, Sheik’s precision translates well to the kitchen. Sheik moves silently, with an air of mystery, and you find yourself impressed by her quiet confidence. While she doesn’t say much, there’s an unspoken camaraderie as you work together. Sheik seems to enjoy the peaceful break from her usual activities, and though she remains mostly composed, you catch a hint of a smile when the cake turns out perfectly.

Ness:

Baking with Ness is pure fun and chaos. He’s constantly excited, bouncing around the kitchen, eager to try every step. He often rushes ahead, which sometimes leads to messes, but his enthusiasm makes it hard to be upset. You both end up covered in flour and batter at one point, laughing the whole time. Ness loves decorating the cake, adding as many colorful toppings as possible. By the end, it might not be the neatest cake, but it’s full of fun and personality. Ness proudly presents it, his grin wide, “This is the best cake ever!”

Ganondorf:

Okay....Baking with Ganondorf is an experience you wouldn’t expect. He’s serious and stoic, handling everything with intensity, as if baking a cake is a battle to be won(to the point it's almost terrifying). His heavy-handed approach can lead to some smashed ingredients, but surprisingly, he’s very capable and doesn’t mind following instructions. You’re the one who lightens the mood, and despite his usual demeanor, you notice his efforts to make the experience enjoyable for you. When the cake is done, Ganondorf stares at it with pride, offering a rare, gruff compliment, “It turned out well… thanks to my power.”

Marth:

Baking with Marth is elegant and refined. He’s polite and charming, treating the whole process with grace. He’s surprisingly skilled, delicately handling the ingredients and ensuring every step is followed perfectly. Marth pays attention to detail, making sure the cake is as visually appealing as it is delicious. Throughout the process, you exchange light conversation, and he occasionally shares stories from his homeland. By the end, the cake is a work of art, and Marth offers you a sweet smile, “It was an honor to bake with you. This cake is a testament to our teamwork.”

Roy:

Roy is full of energy in the kitchen, which makes baking with him exciting but sometimes chaotic. He’s eager to help, but his enthusiasm sometimes causes spills or slight mishaps. Still, he’s quick to laugh at himself and keep going. He gets a bit competitive, trying to do things faster or better, but it only adds to the fun. You both end up with flour in your hair and batter on your clothes, but Roy’s smile never fades. The final cake may be a bit rough around the edges, but Roy is beaming with pride as he declares, “We did it! This cake is gonna be awesome!”

Pikachu and Pichu:

Baking with Pikachu and Pichu is adorable, though quite the challenge. They try to help, but their small size means you do most of the heavy lifting. Pikachu helps out with little electric shocks to speed up mixing, while Pichu excitedly runs around, trying not to cause accidents. It’s a bit of a mess, but their enthusiasm makes it all worth it. By the end, you’ve created a cute, colorful cake that both Pikachu and Pichu are proud of. They both celebrate by sharing little happy shocks, and you all sit down to enjoy the cake together.

[isagrimorie]

I have a theory about Agatha and her siphoning powers and a lot about Agatha’s powers and her response to them reminds me of some elements of The Originals and The Vampire Diaries.

Agatha loves witchcraft and magick but getting power through siphoning is a double edged sword because it kills people and also, it looks like siphoning magic has a euphoric effect on Agatha.

This reminds me of ‘rippers’ on TVD - Vampires who get intoxicated and out of control over Human blood. An addiction metaphor with an extra curse added to it.

And then, there’s Kai Parker — a witch who can only have magic by siphoning magic from somewhere else. Kai was treated like a pariah all his life because of his siphoning abilities.

And then he massacres his family including the toddlers, only a few escaped his massacre.

Kai and Agatha aren’t one to one since Agatha only killed her coven out of self-defense. Kai is a true psychopath, emotions elude him.

Agatha does feel but compartmentalizes and all the death has inured her from feeling. She built her legend and reputation around the worst takes on her.

She is, by Jen’s words, a serial killer. Or, in Criminal Minds words: The Most Prolific Serial Killer in History.

And in the margins of all that, is a complicated person with a multitude of feelings she’s running away from.

Going back to Agatha as a siphoner — is that she has the Rogue (the X-men) curse in that she couldn’t control. Yes, in her battle with Wanda it looked like she had control over her siphoning but that was because Agatha had the Darkhold.

As terrible the Darkhold is, my theory is, the Darkhold acts like a patch for her siphoning ability. It was a crutch.

Something I noticed too when Agatha’s siphoning magic is that, it acts like a drug on Agatha. It looks almost euphoric for her. An automatic defensive response she has no control over.

Agatha took a hit of magic for the first time and it felt great but also she was so horrified right after, when she realized what she’s done.

Yes, Agatha wanted to siphon off their powers in the second episode but Agatha didn’t know Alice back then but she’s bonded with Alice and this hurt.

And the power didn’t even last that long.

She lost Teen’s confidence and she’s hurting and lashing out. So she fell back to what she knew best and became the villain everyone thought she was.

It would also be so interesting if Agatha’s power siphoning is also a kind of addiction metaphor — BtVS tried it with Willow and Amy and biffed that hard. I feel like Jac and her team can tackle this metaphor better. Especially since siphoning is such a terrible curse for Agatha, it gives her the power she wants but at such terrible cost.

Every person she drains — it feels like such a rush but also she ends up killing them.

What kind of power is that? It’s more a curse than anything else.